THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


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THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


/D  G 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/unknownheroinehi11chit 


MRS.    VAN    METRE. 


AN  UNKNOWN  HEROINE 


AN  HISTORICAL  EPISODE  OF  THE  WAE 
BETWEEN   THE   STATES 


BY 

L.  E.  CHITTE]^DE]^ 

Author  of  ''Personal  Recollections,  IS4O-I8DO,'"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

GEORGE  H.   EICHMOND  &  CO., 

1894. 


COPTEIGHT,  1894,  BT 

GEORGE  H.  RICHJIOND  &  CO. 


AS  A  SLIGHT 
RECOGNITION   OF   HIS   HOSPITALITY 

AND  OF 

HIS  ASSIST  iNCE   IN   VERIFYING'  THE  NOBLE  EXAMPLE  OF 
ONE  OF  HIS  NEIGHBORS, 

■ff  Dc&icatc  tbis  Dolume 

TO 

MAJOR   DAINQERFIELD    LEWIS, 

OF  AUDLEY, 
NEAR   BERRYVILLE,   VIRGINIA. 

THE   AUTHOR. 


602766 


OOKTEKTS. 


CHAPTEE 

I. —Introductory, 

II. — The  Valley  of  Virginia,      .... 
III.— A  Home  in  Vermont  before  the  War, 
IV. — The  Trumpet-Call  of  War  in  the  Green  Moun 

tains, 

V. — The  Call  to  Arms  in  the  Valley,     . 
VI.  —How  a  Brave  Man  Met  the  Heavy  Stroke  of 

Merciless  War, 

VII.— Deserted, 

VIII.— The  Unconscious  Heroine,  .... 

IX. — The  Consultation — The  Country  Doctor — Th,j: 

Decision  of  the  Heroine, 
X. — The  First  Expedition  to  Harper's  Ferry, 
XI. — The  Peculiarities  of  the  Country  Doctor— The 
Eemoval  and  Concealment  under  Difficul- 
ties OF  A  Stalwart  Enemy,     .        .        .        . 

XII.— The  Dream  which  was  Not  all  a  Dream, 
XIII.— The  Battle  of  Opequan  or  Winchester— The 
Progress  of   the   Wounded   Officer  —  The 
Skill  and  Enterprise  of  His  Hostess,  . 
XIV. — The  Battle -Fields  of  Winchester — The  Search 
for  a  Forgotten  Grave — An  Act  to  be  Hon- 
ored BY  Brave  Soldiers  and  Emulated  by 
True  Women,     ........ 

3 


FAOS 

7 
11 


33 

38 

42 
53 
65 

76 


96 
105 


116 


126 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV. — A  Side  View  of  the  Battle  of  Cedar  Creek, 

WITH  "Sheridan  Twenty  Miles  Away,"    .  134 
XVI. — The  Terrible  Harvest  of  War — The  Prep- 
aration FOR  THE  Escape  of  the  Wounded 

Officer 153 

XVII.— The  Escape, 165 

XVIII. — Rest  and  PreparaAon  for  the  Search,      .  181 
XIX. — A  Time  of  New  Trouble  and  Anxiety,        .  195 
XX. — The' Afflictions  of  the  Mule-Owner — Prep- 
arations FOR  the  Search  for  a  Prisoner 
OF  War — The  Separation  of  the  Friends,  210 
XXI.— In  the  Den  of  the  Ogre,  the  Terrible  Sec- 
retary  223 

XXII. — The  First  Failure  in  the  Search,        .        .  233 
XXIII. — The  Bloody  Angle— The  Prisoner  and  His 

Betrayer, 241 

XXIV. — "What  I  did  for  Him  I  Thought  Some 
Northern  Woman  Might  do  for  my  Hus- 
band,"       253 

XXV.  ^— And   the  Recompense   of   a   Man's  Hands 

SHALL  BE  Rendered  unto  Him,     .         .        .  263 
XXVI.  — "  I  HAVE  not  Found  so  Great  Faith  ;  no,  not 

IN  Israel," 272 

XXVII. — The  Hard  Lot  of  a  Prisoner  of  War— One 
OF  Them  Touches  the  End  of  His  Suffer- 
ings  286 

XXVIII. — "Weeping  may  Endure  for  a  Night,  but  Joy 

Cometh  in  the  Morning,"    ,        .        .        ,301 


ILLUSTEATIOl^a 


Portrait  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre,         .        .        .     Frontispiece 

Portrait  of  Major  Bedell, Page  129 

Map  of  Shenandoah  Valley,         .        .        .        .      "     147 


AN  UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 


While  this  volume  does  not  aspire  to  the  dig- 
nity of  history,  the  somewhat  hackneyed  title 
of.  a  story  founded  on  fact  cannot  properly  be  ap- 
plied to  it.  It  is  substantially  a  true  story.  Every 
character  in  it  existed,  the  essential  facts  stated, 
occurred  in  the  order  here  given.  Truth  has  spun 
from  her  own  materials  the  entire  warp  and 
much  of  the  woof  which  has  been  woven  into 
this  fabric.  It  is  only  when  some  of  the  less 
important  of  the  materials  seemed  to  be  wanting 
that  the  author  has  felt  at  liberty  to  supply  them, 
always  adhering  as  closely  as  possible  to  the 
probabilities  and  to  what  he  supposed  the  fact 
to  be. 

The  author  was  not  present  at  the  numerous 
interviews  between  the  leading  persons  and  no 
records  exist  of  their  conversations.  We  know 
from  subsequent  events  that  such  conversations 

7 


8  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

were  held — they  are  necessary  to  the  relation. 
Instead  of  omitting  the  language  of  these  inter- 
views and  leaving  his  work  imperfect,  the  author 
has  attempted  to  supply  it.  And  there  were  re- 
sults which  must  have  been  preceded  by  unre- 
corded causes.  Those  causes  have  in  a  few  in- 
stances been  given  as  the  writer  supposes  they 
must  have  existed.  Such  is  the  whole  extent  to 
which  he  has  departed  from  the  record.  This 
being  understood,  it  is  not  believed  that  the 
charm  which  truth  gives  to  every  book  will  be 
materially  diminished,  while  on  the  other  hand 
the  volume  will  be  rendered  more  interesting  and 
attractive. 

A  brief  recapitulation  will  show  that  the  author 
was  under  no  necessity  which  called  for  the  in- 
vention of  facts,  and  afford  another  proof  that 
truth  is  sometimes  stranger  than  fiction. 

The  Union  officer  enlisted,  served,  was  desper- 
ately wounded,  left  when  the  army  retired,  all  as 
herein  stated.  In  his  desolate  solitude,  when 
very  near  to  death,  he  was  discovered  by  the 
heroine,  a  young  woman  who  had  not  completed 
her  nineteenth  year,  whose  husband  and  brothers 
were  Confederate  soldiers ;  her  husband  a  prisoner. 
She  removed  the  Union  officer  to  her  own  dwell- 
ing, and  with  the  assistance  of  the  country  doctor 
nursed  him  back  to  life.  She  made  journeys  to 
Harper's  Ferry  for  supplies,  to  Cedar  Creek  for 
his  clothing.     She  experienced  all  the  vicissitudes : 


INTRODUCTORY.  9 

aided  in  his  escape  and  accompanied  him  to  Har- 
per's Ferry  and  Washington,  procured  an  order 
for  the  release  of  her  husband,  found  him  and 
went  to  Vermont  with  the  Union  officer,  all  as 
herein  written.  Such  a  plot  needs  no  additions. 
It  is  so  extraordinary  that  the  author  would  hesi- 
tate to  indorse  its  truth  if  he  had  not  visited  the 
localities,  conversed  with  the  parties,  and  found 
it  confirmed  in  so  many  particulars  that  to  doubt 
it  further  would  be  affectation. 

When,  through  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  A'^an 
Metre,  the  Union  officer  reached  Harper's  Ferry 
and  was  safe  within  the  Union  lines,  he  found 
that  the  story  of  his  abandonment  and  the  efficient 
conduct  of  his  nurse,  to  which  he  owed  the  pres- 
ervation of  his  life,  was  already  well  known  to 
General  Stevenson,  then  in  command  at  that 
post.  Of  his  own  accord  General  Stevenson  im- 
mediately communicated  the  substance  of  the 
story  to  Secretary  Stanton  by  letter.  The 
answer  of  the  Secretary  was  an  order  for  the 
immediate  release  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre's  husband, 
then  supposed  to  be  confined  in  Fort  Delaware. 
The  next  day  Mrs.  Van  Metre  received  by  mail 
the  following  letter,  the  original  of  which  has 
been  in  the  hands  of  the  author  of  this  book.  It 
proves  that  her  conduct  was  highly  appreciated 
by  Secretary  Stanton  at  the  time,  and  is  one  of 
the  numerous  evidences  which  have  been  fur- 
nished of  the  truth  of  the  narrative  here  given. 


10  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

The  letter  referred  to  reads  as  follows : 

"Washington  City,  D.  C, 

"Nov.  4th,  1864. 
"Mrs.  Van  Metre,  Harper's  Ferry. 

'■^  Madam: — It  is  with  unfeigned  pleasure  that 
I  comply  with  the  instructions  of  the  Secretary 
of  War  and  inform  you  that  he  has  ordered  the 
unconditional  discharge  of  your  husband,  now  at 
Fort  Delaware. 

"Mr.  Stanton  has  been  sensibly  touched  by 
the  report  received  through  General  Stevenson 
of  your  noble  and  humane  conduct  toward  a 
wounded  Federal  officer  and  soldier,  and  without 
a  moment's  delay  has  acted  upon  the  suggestion 
of  General  Stevenson  and  ordered  the  discharge 
of  your  husband,  as  some  acknowledgment  of  the 
feminine  goodness  and  nobleness  manifested  in 
your  person. 

"If  such  an  example  could  but  extensively  find 
imitations,  it  would  do  infinite  honor  to  your  sex 
and  greatly  relieve  war  of  some  of  its  most  bar- 
barous tendencies. 

"Very  respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 
"E.  A.  Hitchcock, 
"Maj.-Gen.  Vols." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   VALLEY   OF   VIRGINIA. 

There  are  localities  in  our  favored  land  which 
nature  has  made  as  beautiful  as  a  poet's  dream. 
In  a  country  which  comprises  every  kind  of 
natural  scenery:  where  mountain,  valley,  lake, 
river,  and  plain  are  found  in  every  possible  com- 
bination, no  one  spot  can  be  selected  as  the  most 
attractive.  Opinions  vary.  Standing  upon  the 
brink  of  a  caiion,  looking  down  along  its  perj)en- 
dicular  walls  to  the  river  bounding  over  its  rocky 
bed  six  thousand  feet  below,  then  looking  upward 
above  the  glaciers  and  eternal  snows  two  miles 
into  the  blue  ether,  one  may  well  say,  "  This  is 
indeed  grand !"  The  domes  of  the  Yosemite,  the 
geysers  of  the  National  Park,  the  thunders  of 
Niagara,  and  the  sublime  scenes  where  once  rolled 
the  Oregon  and  "heard  no  sound  save  his  own 
dashings,"  fill  every  beholder  with  wonder  and 
admiration.  To  the  writer,  the  great  forest 
which  clothes  the  western  slope  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  is  one  of  the  mightiest  works  of  nature. 
We  are  now  interested  in  a  less  imposing  but 
more  beautiful  picture. 

11 


12  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

The  Shenandoah  Valley,  otherwise  known  as 
the  Garden  of  Virginia,  is  flanked  by  two  noble 
mountain  ranges  extending  southward  from  the 
Potomac  River.  Its  width  varies  from  twelve  to 
thirty  miles.  About  one-third  of  its  extent  from 
the  river  another  mountain  range  rises  abruptly, 
converting  the  one  into  two  valleys.  The  foot- 
hills on  either  side  slope  gradually  away,  forming 
a  succession  of  moderate  elevations,  between 
which  silvery  streams  from  the  mountains  drain 
the  region.  The  valley  of  the  Shenandoah,  the 
Luray,  and  the  other  valleys,  originally  settled 
by  an  industrious  class  of  emigrants,  have  been 
divided  into  farms  and  brought  under  a  high 
state  of  cultivation.  The  primitive  forest  of  oak, 
chestnut,  magnolia,  and  tulip  trees  once  covered 
the  entire  valley  and  the  surrounding  mountain 
slopes.  This  forest  has  been  largely  cleared 
away,  but  many  noble  trees  still  remain  to  shade 
the  highways  and  the  grounds  about  the  resi- 
dences. Broad  turnpikes  traverse  the  whole 
section.  There  are  many  passes  through  the 
mountains,  called  "gaps,"  and  in  each  of  these  is 
a  highway  which  bisects  the  turuiDikes.  A  large 
river  flows  through  the  valley  in  a  very  crooked 
course,  furnishing  abundant  water  to  the  farms, 
which  are  also  well  watered  by  the  streams  and 
creeks  from  the  "  gaps  "  on  either  side.  The  main, 
or  Shenandoah  valley  was  the  theatre  of  the  prin- 
cipal events  which  it  is  our  purpose  to  describe. 


THE   VALLEY   OF   VIRGINIA.  13 

In  the  later  days  of  November,  1860,  a  geolo- 
gist and  mining  engineer  just  returned  from 
Heidelberg,  where  he  had  graduated  with  hon- 
ors, was  employed  to  make  some  explorations  in 
the  county  of  Rockbridge.  He  had  heard  such 
accounts  of  the  region  that,  being  in  no  especial 
haste,  he  determined  to  approach  it  from  Harper's 
Ferry  on  horseback.  At  that  place  he  hired  a 
horse  which  proved  to  be  a  very  fine  animal,  and 
sending  his  trunks  and  geological  tools  forward 
by  stage,  was  ready  to  begin  his  journey.  But 
first,  from  such  maps  and  information  as  he 
could  collect,  he  arranged  an  itinerary  which 
gave  him  a  daily  ride  of  twenty  or  twenty-five 
miles,  and  brought  him  at  evening  to  some  ham- 
let or  village  where  there  was  a  hotel.  He  had 
not  yet  learned  what  he  soon  ascertained,  that 
country  hotels  were  not  a  necessity,  the  traveller 
being  w^elcome  at  almost  any  dwelling  along  the 
road  he  was  travelling. 

He  had  passed  through  the  quiet  town  of 
Charlestown,  the  capital  of  Jefferson  County, 
where  John  Brown  attempted  his  crazy  enterprise 
and  met  his  fate,  into  the  adjoining  county  of 
Clarke.  Here  he  was  upon  the  territory  originally 
owned  by  Lord  Fairfax,  which  was  surveyed  by 
Washington  before  he  became  eminent  as  a  sol- 
dier. The  practiced  eye  of  the  general  appreci- 
ated the  fertility  of  the  soil,  and  he  became,  by 
purchase  from  the  lord  of  the  manor,  the  owner 


14  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

of  many  large  tracts  of  land  in  this  vicinity. 
Many  of  his  descendants  settled  upon  these  lands 
and  some  of  them  occupy  them  at  the  present 
time.  From  the  fine,  large,  rambling  buildings 
always  provided  with  broad  lawns  and  shaded  by 
noble  trees  they  still  disjDense  that  liberal,  kindly 
hospitality  which  makes  a  visit  to  one  of  these 
families  an  oasis  in  the  life  of  a  resident  of  the 
city — an  event  long  to  be  remembered  in  the 
journal  of  the  traveller. 

Where  the  turnpike  entered  the  county  of 
Clarke  it  brought  the  engineer  in  view  of  a 
scene  as  beautiful  as  his  eyes  had  ever  beheld. 
The  mountains  on  either  side  were  covered  to 
their  tops  with  a  forest  of  deciduous  trees.  Their 
foliage,  now  in  its  ripened  maturity,  painted  the 
landscape  with  an  exquisite  combination  of  neu- 
tral tints  and  rich  colors.  Lower  down,  the  foot- 
hills gave  the  country  a  rolling  surface,  and 
among  them  nestled  many  a  picturesque  rural 
homestead.  From  the  mountains  rapid  streams 
dashed  over  their  rocky  beds  down  to  the  lower 
lands  and  then  wound  their  crooked  ways  between 
fringes  of  alder  and  willow.  Around  many  of 
the  dwellings  large  trees  of  primitive  growth  had 
been  left,  to  shade  the  avenues  and  approaches. 
Orchards  laden  with  golden  fruit  were  common. 
The  lovely  landscape,  the  pure  atmosphere,  the 
blue  sky,  filled  the  horseman  with  new  strength 
and   vigor   and   had   a   similar   effect  upon  the 


THE    VALLEY    OP    VIRGINIA.  15 

animal  he  rode.  "This  view  is  worth  all  the 
time  and  cost  of  my  journey,"  said  the  horseman 
to  himself,  "if  I  never  see  the  boundary  line  of 
Eockbridge  County." 

He  was  most  impressed,  however,  by  the  amaz- 
ing fertility  of  the  soil.  It  seemed  to  be  a  reddish 
loam  which  everywhere  produced  an  abundant 
harvest.  There  were  few  outbuildings,  for  the 
climate  did  not  render  a  warm  shelter  for  the 
animals  in  winter  a  necessity.  But  in  every 
farm-yard  there  were  many  great  stacks  of  hay, 
grain,  corn,  and  wheat.  In  the  pastures  the 
grass  was  still  abundant  for  the  many  horses, 
cattle,  and  sheep.  Even  the  swine  were  permitted 
to  gorge  themselves  upon  the  apples  which  had 
fallen  from  the  trees.  In  many  fields  the  laborers 
were  loading  great  farm  wagons  with  turnips, 
beets,  and  potatoes.  It  was  literally  a  land  of 
abundance. 

As  he  was  approaching  the  town  of  Berryville, 
the  capital  of  Clarke  County,  he  noticed  a  lane 
leading  westward,  nearly  at  right  angles  to  the 
turnpike,  which  apparently  led  to  a  farm  of  large 
size.  He  was  within  sight  of  Berryville,  where 
he  intended  to  pass  his  first  night,  and  had 
abundant  time.  He  dismounted,  opened  the 
swinging  gate,  and  mounting  again,  allowed  his 
horse  to  walk  slowly  along  the  lane. 

Passing  between  hedges  of  the  Osage  orange, 
not   very  well   trimmed,   where   broad  fields   of 


16  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

wheat  and  corn  had  been  recently  harvested,  on 
either  hand,  he  soon  came  within  view  of  the 
residence.  It  was  upon  a  slight  elevation,  sloping 
gently  in  every  direction.  The  house  was  only 
one  story  high,  but  it  made  up  in  length  and 
breadth  what  it  lacked  in  height.  On  the  south 
or  front  of  the  house  was  a  velvety  lawn,  skirted 
on  all  sides  with  grand  old  oaks,  chestnuts,  and 
magnolias.  On  the  north  or  in  the  rear  were 
the  slaves'  quarters  and  the  kitchen,  separated 
from  the  house.  A  fine  vegetable  and  fruit  gar- 
den extended  farther  in  the  rear. 

The  traveller  halted  under  the  shade  of  a 
grand  old  chestnut  and  permitted  the  beauty  of 
the  picture  to  grow  upon  his  mind.  It  increased 
with  his  inspection.  The  residence  and  its  sur- 
roundings seemed  built  for  that  old-time  Virginia 
hospitality  of  which  he  had  read,  but  which  he 
had  never  experienced.  He  led  his  horse  to  a 
spring  which  ran  across  the  lane  or  private  road, 
and  while  he  drank,  his  rider  began  to  inspect  and 
admire  his  fine  limbs  and  action.  As  he  patted 
him  gently  on  the  shoulders  the  animal  responded 
by  a  gentle  whinny,  which  was  immediately  an- 
swered from  a  paddock  which  had  been  partially 
hidden  from  him  by  the  stacks  of  corn  and  grain 
and  their  protecting  thatch  of  straw.  Farther 
beyond  he  saw  another  and  a  larger  field  in  which 
there  was  a  herd  of  cattle. 

Himself   a   farmer's   son,    the   horseman   was 


THE   VALLEY   OF   VIRGINIA.  17 

skilled  in  breeds  of  cattle  and  horses.  Leading 
his  horse,  he  approached  as  nearly  as  possible  the 
first  field,  in  which  he  saw  a  picture  which  at  the 
same  time  surprised  and  delighted  him.  There 
were  ten  or  a  dozen  brood-mares  and  their  foals. 
The  action  of  these  colts,  so  graceful,  so  quick,  so 
powerful,  showed  to  his  practiced  eye  that  while 
the  mares  were  of  the  best  native  breeds,  the 
colts  had  an  infusion  of  that  wonderful  Percheron 
blood  which  France  owed  to  the  first  Napoleon, 
as  it  did  many  other  of  its  most  profitable  ad- 
vances in  the  arts,  in  manufactures,  and  other 
departments  of  human  activity  as  well  as  in  the 
breeding  of  horses  and  cattle. 

He  had  stood  for  some  time  witnessing  with 
delight  the  gambols  of  the  colts  and  wondering 
how  he  could  get  access  to  the  field  beyond,  in 
which  he  had  discovered  some  fine  blooded  Ayr- 
shire cows,  when  looking  behind  him  he  found 
himself  very  near  the  rear  entrance  to  the  house 
and  grounds.  He  was  immediately  surrounded 
by  a  flock  of  woolly-headed,  barefooted  young 
darkies,  all  clamorously  proposing  to  hold  his 
horse,  while  two  or  three  of  the  largest  actually 
seized  upon  his  bridle.  They  were  not  uncivil; 
they  were  decently  but  not  over  liberally  clothed ; 
their  white  eye-balls  shining  in  their  black  faces 
interested  and  their  antics  amused  him.  He 
was  considering  how  he  could  make  use  of  the 
entire  flock  without  exciting  the  jealousy  of  any 


18  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

individual  of  it,  when  a  stately  old  colored  person 
came  out  of  the  house  with  an  innocent  switch  in 
his  hand  and  proceeded  to  drive  away  the  young- 
sters. 

"  Whar  you'  manners,  you  sassy  imps?  Into  de 
quarters,  ebery  one  o'  ye.  If  ye  don't  I'll  thrash 
ye  till  the  blood  runs!"  a  threat  which  seemed  to 
amuse  the  crowd.  Then  turning  to  the  horse- 
man he  said:  "I  hope  you  plees  sense  de  young 
uns!  Dey  means  well  hut  dey's  had  no  bringin' 
up.  Plees  walk  into  de  house.  I  will  care  for 
your  animal,  sah.  De  colonel  an  missus  are  out 
in  de  pike  on  de  saddle-horses.  Dey  will  re- 
turn berry  soon.  As  soon  as  I  stable  you'  horse 
I  will  show  you  to  your  'partment." 

The  traveller  was  so  impressed  with  the  un- 
affected civility  of  this  venerable  person  of  seventy 
years,  whose  woolly  head  was  perfectly  white, 
that  he  did  not  interrupt  him  until  he  was  about 
to  take  the  bridle  from  his  hand.  Then  he  ex- 
plained that  he  was  a  stranger,  a  traveller 
through  the  country  who  had  been  attracted  by 
the  beauty  of  the  place  and  wished  to  have  a 
nearer  view  of  the  colts  and  their  dams  and  the 
cattle.  He  was  unacquainted  with  their  owner 
and  had  no  thought  of  becoming  a  burden  upon 
his  hospitality.  If  he  might  be  permitted  to 
enter  the  yard  and  have  a  closer  view  of  the  colts 
for  a  few  minutes  he  would  proceed  on  his 
journey. 


THE   VALLEY   OF   VIRGINIA.  19 

This  arrangement  was  not  at  all  satisfactory  to 
the  temporary  representative  of  the  house.  He 
insisted  that  the  horse  must  have  his  feed — his 
rider  must  be  weary  after  his  ride  of  twenty  miles 
from  "  de  Ferry. "  Lunch  was  almost  ready ;  "  de 
fambly"  would  feel  hurt  if  he  did  not  remain 
until  they  returned  from  their  ride.  He  was 
sincerely  grieved  when  the  traveller  assured  him 
that  his  engagements  would  not  permit  of  a 
longer  delay. 

Fastening  his  bridle  to  a  hitching-post,  the  old 
servant  led  the  way  to  the  fields.  The  closer  his 
inspection  the  greater  was  the  traveller's  pleasure 
at  the  sight  of  the  horses  and  cattle.  The  field 
inclosing  the  Ayrshires  comprised  the  most  ele- 
vated portion  of  the  farm.  Looking  north- 
westward, he  saw  a  smaller  farm  through  which 
ran  a  stream  of  considerable  size.  At  one  point 
where  there  seemed  to  be  a  fall  there  was  a 
large  stone  structure  surrounded  by  shade-trees. 
Beyond  it  there  was  a  broad,  level  farm,  and  be- 
yond this  again  another  farm  somewhat  broken 
by  hills  and  apparently  pasturing  a  large  number 
of  horses.  Upon  further  inquiry  of  the  venerable 
servant,  he  learned  that  the  mill  farm,  as  it  was 
called,  was  the  property  of  a  young  bachelor 
named  Van  Metre,  who  resided  in  a  part  of  the 
mill  finished  for  a  dwelling,  to  which  it  was 
rumored  the  owner  would  soon  bring  its  new 
mistress.     The  next  place  was  Clifton,  and  still 


20  AN  UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 

farther  beyond  v/as  Claremont,  which  as  he 
learned  from  the  same  informant  was  a  fine  farm 
upon  which  its  proprietor,  Colonel  Luke,  raised 
some  of  the  finest  horses  of  Virginia. 

"And  what  is  the  name  of  this  beautiful  place 
where  we  are  standing?"  asked  the  young  en- 
gineer. 

"This  is  Audley,  sah.  It  is  owned  by  my 
massa  Colonel  Lewis,  who  belongs  to  de  Wash- 
ington family.  He  is  a  grandson  of  the  beau- 
tiful Nelly  Custis,  the  grandchile  of  Missus 
Washington.  We  has  many  tings  in  de  house 
dat  belonged  to  her."  And  pointing  to  a  win- 
dow he  added,  "  In  that  room  she  died.  I  wish 
you  would  stay  and  meet  de  colonel  and  Missus 
Lewis.  You  would  like  de  colonel  and  missus, 
sir.  Everybody  likes  de  colonel  and  Missus 
Lewis." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  that  whatever,"  said  the 
traveller,  now  rather  mortified  that  he  had  at- 
tempted to  seek  information  of  the  region  from  a 
servant  instead  of  his  master.  Warmly  express- 
ing his  thanks  for  the  particulars  he  had  gained, 
he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Berryville. 

His  bridle-path  across  the  country  brought  him 
to  a  spring,  at  the  head  of  which  he  noticed  a 
building  of  squared  timbers  about  twelve  feet  in 
length,  dove-tailed  at  the  corners  and  presenting 
evidences  of  great  age.     The   timbers  v/ere   of 


THE  VALLEY   OF  VIRGINIA.  21 

chestnut  oak,  a  most  durable  wood,  but  into 
them  furrows  an  inch  in  depth  had  been  worn  by 
exposure  to  the  winds  and  weather.  Inside,  a 
rude  flight  of  stairs  led  to  the  upper  room.  A 
trap-door  in  the  floor  being  raised  was  directly 
over  the  source  of  the  spring.  A  noble  oak 
shaded  the  building,  and  under  it  a  large  boulder 
furnished  a  convenient  seat  to  the  horseman  after 
his  horse  had  drunk  his  fill  at  the  cool  spring. 

While  he  was  curious  to  know  for  what  use 
such  a  building  could  have  been  constructed,  a 
farmer  approached  him,  who  announced  himself 
as  the  owner  of  the  premises.  "  It  is  the  current 
belief  in  the  neighborhood,"  he  said,  "that  this 
hut  was  built  by  General  Washington  before  his 
expeditions  against  the  Indians  and  while  he 
was  engaged  in  surveying  these  lands  for  Lord 
Fairfax,  their  owner.  It  is  well  known  that  this 
end  of  the  valley  was  surveyed  by  Washington 
and  that  he  purchased  large  tracts  of  these  lands 
from  Lord  Fairfax,  and  some  of  the  best  farms 
still  remain  in  the  possession  of  branches  of  his 
family.  It  is  said  that  the  upper  room  was  the 
sleeping-room  of  his  chain-men  and  that  the 
lower  room  was  occupied  by  himself.  This  was 
one  of  the  farms  in  the  Washington  purchase," 
he  continued,  "and  yonder,"  pointing  to  a  knoll 
of  moderate  height,  "  is  the  highest  point  in  the 
valley  between  the  foot-hills." 

The  traveller  ascended  the  elevation  to  which 


22  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

the  farmer  pointed  and  was  charmed  with  the 
view  in  every  direction.  The  boundaries  of  the 
valley,  the  gaps  in  the  mountains,  and  the  rivers 
have  already  been  mentioned.  As  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  to  the  southward  and  limited  only 
by  the  mountain  ranges  east  and  west,  he  saw 
farms  similar  to  the  one  he  had  left,  houses 
shaded  by  large  trees  and  almost  hidden  by  the 
huge  stacks  of  hay  and  grain  that  surrounded 
them.  In  many  of  the  fields  white  men  and 
black  were  contentedly  working  side  by  side 
digging  beets,  turnips,  and  potatoes  and  loading 
them  into  huge  farm  wagons.  The  farms  ap- 
peared to  be  well  fenced.  In  some  of  the  fields 
horses  and  in  others  cows  and  young  cattle  were 
grazing,  and  all  this  stock,  so  far  as  he  could 
judge,  was  of  the  most  desirable  races  and  breeds. 
There  was  an  air  of  abundance,  of  plenty,  per- 
vading the  region  which  led  him  to  say  to  him- 
self, "  Here  is  a  section  of  our  favored  land  to 
which  want  and  hunger,  war  and  its  miseries 
can  never  come  I" 

And  yet  he  remembered  with  a  shudder  that 
only  twelve  months  before  this  whole  region  had 
been  thrown  into  the  fiercest  excitement  by  the 
invasion  of  John  Brown  and  twenty-two  other 
equally  insane  fanatics.  True,  the  party  had  been 
defeated,  some  shot,  others  hung,  and  others  had 
run  away,  so  that  none  remained  to  disturb  the 
peace  of  the  valley.     He  knew,  too,  that  there 


THE   VALLEY   OF   VIRGINIA.  23 

had  recently  been  an  election,  that  many  intem- 
perate threats  had  been  made  of  the  dire  results 
which  would  follow  the  election  of  one  or  another 
of  the  candidates.  Surely,  he.  thought,  those 
threats  will  not  be  carried  into  execution.  And 
if  war  should  come  it  will  be  restricted  to  a  few 
armed  conflicts  in  the  cities  or  along  the  Atlantic 
coast,  and  then  better  counsels  will  prevail  and 
peace  will  return.  It  cannot  be  that  these  moun- 
tains will  ever  echo  the  roar  of  artillery,  that 
these  peaceful  farms  will  become  the  theatres 
of  bloody  battles,  or  that  this  lovely  landscape 
will  ever  be  illuminated  by  the  lurid  torch  of 
war! 

Passing  the  night  in  Berryville,  our  traveller 
next  day  pursued  his  journey.  The  valley  seemed 
to  grow  in  beauty  as  it  narrowed  in  extent. 
Leaving  Masanutten  like  a  grand  sentinel  on 
his  right,  he  passed  down  the  lovely  vale  of  Luray, 
halting  only  long  enough  to  inspect  its  mighty 
caverns  with  their  magical  effects  in  the  lime- 
stone rocks ;  past  the  Natural  Bridge,  Harrison- 
burg, Staunton,  and  on  to  the  locality  of  his 
investigations  in  Rockbridge  County.  The  result 
of  his  scientific  work  there  was  not  encouraging 
to  the  promoters  of  the  enterj)rise  he  was  expected 
to  forward.  That  enterprise  received  his  honest, 
emphatic  condemnation.  But  he  reported  to  his 
employers  that  on  his  way  to  Eockbridge  County 
he  had  traversed,  as  he  believed,  the  most  fertile 


24  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE, 

as  it  was  unquestionably  the  most  exquisitely- 
beautiful  valley  on  the  continent  of  America. 

His  report  to  his  employers  made,  he  turned 
his  face  westward,  supposing  that  he  had  seen 
this  valley  for  the  last  time.  But  great  events 
were  even  then  maturing  in  the  near  future. 
Had  they  been  disclosed  to  him,  he  would  within 
a  little  more  than  two  years  have  seen  him- 
self returning  hither  as  a  general  of  brigade, 
now  sending  the  enemy  whirling  up  the  valley, 
again  himself  sent  whirling  by  the  foe  down 
the  valley  in  his  turn.  He  would  have  seen  him- 
self leaving  it  for  the  last  time  as  the  commander 
of  a  division  in  an  army,  driving  all  the  horses, 
cattle,  sheep,  and  swine  in  their  advance,  their 
march  illuminated  by  the  conflagration  of  every 
outbuilding,  of  all  the  stacks  of  hay  and  grain, 
of  everything  capable  of  supporting  human  life. 
Instead  of  the  pasture  of  abundance  which  he 
saw  on  his  first  visit,  there  would  have  been  a 
smoking,  barren  desert,  until  another  season's 
crop  incapable  of  supporting  human  life. 

The  miseries  of  war  force  themselves  upon  a 
nation  in  defiance  of  all  resistance.  We  shall  see 
enough  of  them  in  this  valley  as  the  incidents  of 
our  story  are  developed  without  attempting  to 
anticipate  them.  We  will  hereafter  deal  with 
them  as  they  arise. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  HOME  IN  VERMONT  BEFORE  THE  WAR. 

Under  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  loftiest  peaks 
of  the  Green  Mountains,  well  toward  the  north- 
ern boundary  of  Vermont,  is  situated  the  town- 
ship which  I  shall  call  Westfield.  There  are 
many  such  towns  on  the  flanks  of  the  Green 
Mountains.  The}^  are  formed  by  a  combination 
of  hill  and  valley,  too  much  of  the  first  and  too 
little  of  the  second.  The  rugged  shoulders  of  the 
mountains  extend  at  right  angles  to  the  principal 
range,  and  the  rivers  between  them,  which  spread 
below  into  broad,  rich  intervals,  are  here  only 
trout-brooks  dashing  along  their  rocky  beds. 
There  are  here  and  there  small  areas  capable  of 
cultivation,  but  the  greater  part  of  the  lands 
when  cleared  are  fit  only  for  pasturage. 

These  are  literally  mountain  towns.  The 
primitive  forest  which  originally  covered  the 
country,  in  the  valleys  where  there  was  some 
depth  of  soil,  comprised  the  soft  and  the  sugar 
maple,  the  beech,  and  two  or  three  birches  of 
average  size.  These  upon  the  hillsides  were 
gradually  replaced  by  the  hemlock  and  spruce, 

25 


26  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

which  became  less  in  diameter  with  the  ascent 
until  on  the  mountain-tops  they  were  dwarfed 
into  impenetrable  thickets.  The  first  to  attack 
these  forests  were  the  lumbermen,  who  felled  and 
carried  away  the  trees  large  enough  for  sawing, 
and  then  usually  permitted  the  lands  to  revert  to 
the  State  upon  sales  for  unpaid  taxes.  Later 
these  lands  became  of  some  value  on  account  of 
the  scarcity  and  increased  price  of  charcoal,  and 
still  later  they  were  farther  increased  by  the  de- 
mand for  wood  pulp.  In  1860  they  were  not 
worth  more  than  three  or  four  dollars  per  acre. 

In  one  of  the  poorest  of  these  mountain  towns 
lived  Farmer  Bedell,  a  lineal  descendant  of  an 
ancestor  who  came  over  in  the  Mayflower,  and 
who,  if  he  had  not  inherited  the  persistence,  the 
industry,  and  the  religion  of  his  ancestor,  could 
never  have  raised  a  family  and  maintained  a 
decent  respectability  upon  the  barren  soil  which 
he  had  cleared  from  the  forest  and  called  his 
farm.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  explain  why  Bedell 
and  others  like  him,  when  the  rich  prairies  of  the 
West  and  even  of  the  Genesee  Country  were  open 
to  the  emigrant,  located  here,  where  the  soil  was 
so  unproductive  and  the  climate  so  cold  that  their 
stock  must  be  sheltered  and  fed  for  one-half  the 
year ;  fortunate  if  they  could  glean  their  living 
for  the  other  half  from  the  stony  hillsides.  Per- 
haps the  correct  explanation  was  given  by  one  of 
them  to  a  traveller  who  asked  him  what  they 


A   HOME   IN   VERMONT   BEFORE   THE   WAR.         27 

raised  in  sucli  a  barren  country.  "We  raise 
men,"  was  his  reply,  and  it  was  a  true  answer. 
There  are  hundreds  of  men  who  in  enterprise, 
energy,  and  learning  have  honored  the  American 
name,  distancing  their  competitors  in  all  the 
departments  of  human  industry  and  usefulness, 
who  were  born  and  reared  in  just  such  mountain 
towns. 

Bedell  married,  and  sons  and  daughters  were 
born  to  him.  Our  story  concerns  only  Henry, 
a  son  who  was  born  in  183-1.  He  began  to  be 
useful  to  his  father  at  the  age  of  seven  years,  and 
his  usefulness  increased  until  he  left  the  home- 
stead. During  the  three  winter  months  he  went 
to  the  district  school.  The  nine  remaining 
months  of  the  year  he  labored  for  his  father,  who 
was  the  lawful  owner  of  his  time  and  services 
until  he  had  completed  his  twenty-first  year.  At 
the  age  of  eighteen,  like  many  other  Vermont 
boys,  he  purchased  the  remainder  of  his  minority 
from  his  father,  agreeing  to  give  him  three  hun- 
dred dollars  for  it.  He  was  six  feet  tall,  strong 
and  vigorous,  for  he  had  never  abused  his  health. 
Except  to  watch  by  a  sick  friend  he  had  never 
been  awake  at  midnight  in  his  life.  He  could 
now  cut  a  broader  swath  in  the  hay-field,  he 
could  cradle  more  acres  of  wheat,  he  could  cut 
more  cord-wood  in  a  day,  than  any  other  man  in 
his  town.  His  labor  was  in  demand,  for  he  was 
as  faithful' as  he  was  strong.     For  the  greater 


28  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

part  of  the  year  he  earned  and  his  employers  paid 
him  as  much  as  a  dollar  a  day  for  his  work  from 
sunrise  to  sunset.  He  never  complained,  never 
struck  or  even  agitated  for  higher  wages,  but 
went  straight  on.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one  he 
had  paid  his  father  for  his  time  and  was  the 
owner  of  one  hundred  acres  of  as  good  land  as 
there  was  in  the  township  of  Westfield. 

Then  the  forest  began  to  fall  before  the  strokes 
of  his  powerful  axe,  the  trees  were  cut  into  even 
lengths,  made  into  log-heaps  and  burned.  The 
ashes  were  collected  and  sold  to  the  maker  of 
potash.  In  the  fall  he  sowed  a  small  field  of 
winter  wheat,  and  the  next  spring  he  planted 
his  first  crop  of  corn,  potatoes,  turnips,  etc.  He 
could  afford  to  hire  a  carpenter,  and  in  his  leisure 
hours  between  planting  and  hoeing  he  built  a 
good,  warm,  substantial  log-house.  To  this  house 
one  morning  in  June  he  brought  his  wife  and  her 
dowry.  That  of  such  a  Vermont  bride  was 
neither  costly  nor  comprehensive.  It  usually 
comprised  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  bedstead,  a  few 
chairs,  a  wooden  clock,  some  cheap  crockery, 
and  other  necessaries  given  by  her  father.  The 
family  jewels,  consisting  of  a  string  of  gold 
beads,  and  a  Bible,  were  the  gifts  of  the  mother. 
Linen  sheets  and  pillow-cases  spun  and  woven 
with  her  own  hands,  blankets  made  with  the 
assistance  of  her  mother,  her  own  wardrobe  for  a 
year  purchased  with  her  wages  as  the  teacher  of 


A   HOME   IN   VERMONT   BEFORE   THE   WAR.         29 

a  district  school,  together  with  the  contributions 
of  her  husband,  made  a  very  fair  outfit  for  the 
young  couple.  She  was  a  good,  wholesome  Ver- 
mont girl,  wholesome  in  her  heart  and  soul  as 
well  as  in  her  person,  fitted  by  training  and  an 
education  almost  self-won  to  be  the  wife  of  a  true 
man  and  the  mother  of  his  children. 

As  we  shall  see  much  of  Bedell  in  the  course  of 
our  story,  we  shall  leave  his  character  as  it  is 
developed  to  the  judgment  of  the  reader.  But  a 
word  or  two  must  be  written  about  his  personal 
appearance.  In  height  and  strength  he  was 
gigantic.  He  now  measured  six  feet  two  inches 
in  his  stockings,  and  he  Avas  in  every  limb  and 
muscle  well  proportioned.  His  face  always  wore 
a  kind  and  genial  expression,  intensified  possibly 
by  his  gentle  blue  eyes  and  light  brown  hair. 
His  hands  and  feet  were  well  formed,  his  move- 
ments so  easy  that  he  seemed  to  do  everything 
without  exertion. 

Of  necessity  the  young  couple  prospered.  They 
were  both  attentive  and  helpful  to  all  their  neigh- 
bors, especially  to  those  who  were  in  distress 
or  want.  We  will  not  follow  the  details  of  their 
lives.  They  were  not  unusual  or  extraordinary. 
There  have  been  hundreds  of  such  lives  in  New 
England,  where  they  are  too  common  to  attract 
notice. 

In  that  November  when  the  mining  engineer 
is  travelling  through  the  valley  of  Virginia,  the 


30  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

Bedells  of  our  story  have  been  married  six  or 
seven  years.  Three  children  have  been  born  to 
them,  of  whom  both  father  and  mother  are  just 
a  little  proud.  The  youngest  of  these  is  only  five 
months  old.  They  have  adopted  an  orphan,  son 
of  a  deceased  Bedell,  who  has  reached  the  age  of 
ten  years  and  is  as  dear  to  them  as  if  he  was 
their  own  son.  He  is  a  bright  lad,  competent  to 
look  after  the  farm  while  his  adopted  father  is 
away.  In  these  seven  years  the  world  has  gone 
well  with  them.  He  has  brought  as  much  of 
his  farm  under  cultivation  as  he  thinks  profit- 
able, and  has  added  another  to  it  which  pro- 
duces an  unusually  large  crop  of  hay.  Both 
farms  now  constitute  one,  which  is  well  stocked 
with  cattle,  sheep,  and  horses.  He  has  barn 
room  for  his  entire  crop  of  hay  and  grain  and 
a  warm  shelter  in  the  long,  cold  winter  for 
every  animal  he  owns.  The  log-house  has  dis- 
appeared. In  its  place  stands  a  neat  farm-house, 
one  and  a  half  stories  high,  with  its  "square 
room,-'  bedrooms,  and  kitchen  well  furnished 
and  provided  with  all  approved  modern  conven- 
iences. He  has  no  dairy,  for  his  milk  is  sent  to 
the  creamery,  that  greatest  boon  to  the  New 
England  wife.  There  is  a  bookcase  well  stocked 
— he  takes  an  agricultural  as  well  as  the  county 
paper.  While  he  devotes  himself  to  his  farm,  his 
wife,  besides  being  a  most  excellent  housekeeper, 
is  a  faithful  mother  to  her  children  and  is  their 


A  HOME  IN  VERMONT  BEFORE  THE  WAR,    31 

daily  teacher.  Henry  Bedell  is  not  only  a  select- 
man, but  he  is  the  leading  citizen  and  his  farm  is 
one  of  the  best  in  the  township.  He  would  have 
represented  his  town  in  the  State  legislature  this 
year  if  his  neighbors  could  have  had  their  choice. 
But  he  is  a  man  of  firmness  who  has  a  singular 
habit  of  considering  the  claims  of  other  men  be- 
fore his  own.  There  was  a  neighbor  who  was 
entitled  to  the  place,  he  said,  and  he  could  afford 
to  wait.  The  neighbor  is  the  representative,  but 
he  is  also  a  friend  who  would  go  through  fire  to 
serve  Bedell.  And  so  it  happens  that  husband 
and  household  are  a  credit  to  the  State  and  their 
town.  The  husband  is  an  industrious,  charitable, 
benevolent  citizen.  His  wife  is  a  pattern  for 
other  wives,  affectionate  and  useful.  There  are 
none  better  in  the  Republic  than  these  farmers  of 
the  mountain  towns  of  Vermont,  of  whom  it  is 
not  claimed  that  the  Bedells  are  more  than  aver- 
age examples. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   TRUMPET-CALL   OF   WAR   IN   THE    GREEN 
MOUNTAINS. 

The  red  tongue  of  war  licked  the  walls  of 
Sumter  and  his  brazen  throat  belched  out  a  roar 
which  rolled  up  every  New  England  valley,  out 
over  every  Western  prairie.  There  followed  it 
the  call  for  men.  Henry  E.  Bedell  scarcely 
noted  the  sound  of  the  guns,  but  the  call  for  men 
touched  every  nerve  in  his  giant  frame.  It  was 
in  the  spring-time,  when  he  was  ploughing  and 
sowing  and  planting.  While  he  reflected  upon 
his  duty,  the  call  was  filled  by  prompter  men  and 
the  demand  had  passed  him  by.  Then  there 
came  disaster  and  defeat — another  call,  sharper, 
more  peremptory,  not  to  be  disregarded  by  one 
who  loved  his  country.  Once  more  the  Vermont 
farmer  looked  upon  his  wife  and  home,  and  while 
he  hesitated  other  and  apparently  more  patriotic 
men  had  responded,  and  again  he  felt  that  he 
had  failed  of  his  duty.  "But  in  the  sultry 
summer-time,  as  war's  red  records  show,"  of 
1862,  came  that  memorable  appeal  to  which  no 
loyal  ear  was  deaf,  no  loyal  heart  failed  to  re- 

33 


CALL   OF   WAR   IN   THE   GREEN   MOUNTAINS.      33 

spend.  It  was  the  call  for  "three  hundred  thou- 
sand more. "  "  From  Mississippi's  winding  stream 
to  far  New  England's  shore,"  no  ear  was  quicker 
to  hear,  no  heart  more  prompt  to  answer  than 
the  ear  and  heart  of  the  Westfield  farmer.  It 
came  to  him  in  his  county  paper  early  one  morn- 
ing. Instantly  he  decided  that  this  call  was  for 
him  and  he  would  answer  it,  not  by  any  cheap 
substitute,  but  in  person.  Then  his  mind  was  at 
rest.  He  went  out  into  the  morning  air.  Never 
did  his  eye  rest  more  longingly  upon  his  farm, 
his  animals,  his  home.  He  entered  his  dwelling. 
His  children  clamorously  demanded  their  daily 
privilege  of  climbing  upon  his  shoulders.  They 
performed  the  feat  and  proclaimed  their  achieve- 
ment with  shouts  of  joy  and  kisses  of  love.  His 
wife  saw  upon  his  face  a  look  which  she  had  never 
witnessed  before.  She  followed  him  into  another 
apartment.  Without  a  word  he  drew  her  to  him 
with  one  arm,  holding  in  his  other  hand  the  open 
paper.  With  a  woman's  intuition  she  understood 
it  all.  "  I  cannot  hold  you  back,  Henry !  I  would 
not  if  I  could,"  she  said.  "The  country  needs 
you  and  you  must  go.  But,  0  God,  preserve  my 
husband!"  she  cried,  struggling  to  keep  down  the 
wave  of  fear  which  threatened  to  overwhelm  her 
when  she  most  wished  for  strength. 

"Heaven  bless  you,  my  brave  wife,"  he  said, 
controlling  his  own  emotion  with  a  mighty  effort. 
"I  knew  you  would  not  fail    me   in    this  crisis. 
3 


34  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

And  now,  dear,  let  us  sit  down  and  talk  it  all  over 
calmly.  I  have  been  expecting  this  call,  and  the 
devil  has  been  very  busy  in  devising  ways  for  me 
to  avoid  it.  He  suggests  that  I  can  hire  a  sub- 
stitute who  has  no  wife  and  children  to  suffer  if 
he  loses  his  life.  It  is  my  first  duty,  he  urges, 
to  stay  at  home  and  take  care  of  my  family,  I 
need  not  repeat  his  arguments  or  my  replies. 
The  country  is  in  danger.  It  wants  strong, 
earnest,  healthy  men,  and  not  cheap  substitutes 
who  will  desert  or  run  away  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity. I  am  strong  and  healthy,  and  at  least  I 
ought  to  be  big  enough  to  be  of  some  use  to  my 
country,"  he  continued,  casting  a  glance  over 
his  gigantic  frame  and  forcing  himself  to  smile. 
"  These  misguided  men  at  the  South  must  be  de- 
feated if  they  persist  in  their  efforts  to  break  up 
the  Government,  and  I  must  help  to  do  it.  I 
should  despise  myself,  earn  the  contempt  of  all 
honest  men,  and  dishonor  my  native  State  if  I 
did  not  obey  this  call!" 

"You  are  right,  Henry,"  she  replied,  "If  I 
were  a  man  I  should  feel  as  you  do,  and  I  almost 
wish  I  were  one,  so  that  I  might  go  with  you 
and  fight  by  your  side.  But  my  place  is  here,  to 
care  for  our  children  and  to  pray  for  you,  God 
will  watch  over  us  and  reunite  us.  I  feel  it,  and 
I  will  not  make  the  parting  harder  by  a  single 
tear," 

Afraid  to  trust  herself  to  say  more,  the  brave 


CALL   OF   WAR   IN   THE   GREEN   MOUNTAINS.      35 

wife  hun-ied  from  the  room  and  threw  herself 
heart  and  soul  into  the  preparations  for  her  hus- 
band's departure.  Whatever  may  have  been 
her  secret  anguish,  not  a  trace  of  it  ajDpeared  up- 
on her  calm,  serene  brow  when  her  dear  ones  were 
•  by.  An  atmosphere  of  somewhat  forced  cheer- 
fulness pervaded  the  household,  even  the  little 
ones  taking  an  active  part  in  the  work  of  prepa- 
ration. Imitating  their  mother's  example,  they 
endeavored  to  appear  happy  and  unconcerned  as 
they  went  about  the  work  of  cleaning,  brushing, 
and  polishing  which  fell  to  their  share.  But, 
young  as  they  were,  they  felt  the  sad  undercur- 
rent beneath  the  assumed  cheerfulness  about 
them,  and  often  the  merry  laugh  would  cease 
and  a  silent  tear  fall  at  the  thought  that  "father 
was  going  to  the  war." 

On  the  4th  day  of  August,  1862,  Bedell  with 
dry  eyes  and  a  strong  heart  took  leave  of  his 
family  and  his  Westfield  home,  and  enlisted 
in  Company  D,  Eleventh  Vermont  Volunteers. 
He  was  such  a  magnificent  specimen  of  man- 
hood that  on  the  day  of  his  enlistment  his 
captain  insisted  upon  j)romoting  him,  and  he 
was  borne  on  the  roster  as  Corporal  Bedell.  On 
the  first  day  of  September  his  regiment  was 
mustered  into  the  service  of  the  United  States. 
James  M.  Warner,  a  lieutenant  in  the  regular 
army  and  an  educated  soldier,  was  its  colonel. 
The  regiment  was  ordered  first  to  Washington, 


36  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

where  it  became  a  regiment  of  heavy  artillery, 
and  being  separated  into  batteries  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  men  was  distributed  into  the  forts  which 
protected  the  capital.  There  it  served  for  eighteen 
long  months  and  until  April,  1864:. 

This  may  have  been  a  useful  service,  but  it 
was  not  liked  by  officers  or  men.  They  seemed 
to  be  wasting  time  in  idleness  which  should  have 
been  in  some  way  made  profitable  to  the  cause. 

But  Corporal  Bedell  was  a  true  soldier,  content 
to  obey  his  superior  officers  and  to  perform  the 
duty  which  they  assigned  to  him.  He  had  one 
privilege  of  which  he  availed  himself  almost 
daily.  Everything  known  to  the  corporal  was 
promptly  communicated  to  his  wife  and  neigh- 
bors in  their  Vermont  homes. 

Then  on  the  11th  of  August,  all  unconscious 
that  he  had  done  anything  but  his  daily  duty,  he 
was  informed  that  he  had  been  again  promoted 
and  that  he  was  now  Sergeant  Bedell.  His  sur- 
prise was  greater  v/hen,  on  the  28th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1863,  while  the  regiment  was  still  in  the  de- 
fences of  Washington,  he  was  deemed  worthy  of 
a  commission.  On  the  12th  of  January,  1864, 
he  received  his  commission  as  lieutenant.  About 
the  same  time  Aldace  Walker,  who  had  joined  the 
regiment  as  a  lieutenant,  was  made  its  lieutenant- 
colonel.  This  story  cannot  turn  aside  to  do  jus- 
tice to  Colonel  Walker.  I  may,  however,  take 
this   occasion   to  say  that    the    subsequent  very 


CALL   OF   WAR   IN   THE   GREEN   MOUNTAINS.       37 

lively  and  magnificent  fighting  of  the  regiment 
was  under  Colonel  Walker's  command,  that  he 
was  deservedly  hreveted  as  colonel  for  his  per- 
sonal hravery,  and  that  he  is  now  the  chairman 
of  the  Interstate  Railway  Association  of  the 
United  States. 

The  record  of  the  regiment  covers  gallant 
service  at  Spottsylvania,  May  15th  to  18th;  Cold 
Harbor,  June  1st  to  12th;  Petersburg,  June 
18th;  Weldon  Railroad,  June  23d ;  Fort  Stevens, 
in  front  of  Washington,  July  12th,  1 864.  Then  it 
went  into  the  Shenandoah  Valley  and  fought  in 
all  the  battles  there  under  Sheridan.  Its  history 
has  been  written  by  Colonel  Walker,  and  we 
shall  follow  it  so  far  as  it  is  connected  with  the 
heroine  of  our  story  and  Lieutenant  Bedell. 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  IN  THE  VALLEY. 

No  man  of  Northern  birth  or  sympathies  should 
undertake  to  describe  from  a  Southern  stand- 
point the  war  in  the  valley  of  Virginia.  It 
may  be  permitted  to  the  writer  to  say  that  a 
strong  sentiment  in  favor  of  the  Union  was  sup- 
posed to  exist  in  the  State  and  was  loyally 
entertained  by  a  large  majority  of  the  people 
of  the  valley,  including  all  citizens  of  the  better 
class.  But  the  guns  of  Sumter  struck  the  note 
of  separation.  When  General  Lee  resigned  from 
the  army  of  the  United  States  and  consented  to 
take  command  of  the  Confederate  army  of  Vir- 
ginia, the  Union  sentiment  immediately  and  com- 
pletely disappeared.  Nowhere  did  the  Confederate 
call  for  recruits  meet  with  a  more  general  and 
cordial  response  than  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley. 
One  of  the  earliest  to  volunteer  had  been  J.  L.  E. 
Van  Metre,  the  owner  of  the  estate  of  which  we 
have  already  attempted  a  slight  description. 

He  had  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  army  in  the 
summer  of  1861,  when  there  was  supposed  to  bo 
little  danger  that  the  wave  of  war  would  reach 

38 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  IN  THE  VALLEY.      39 

the  valley.  His  horses,  cattle,  and  other  animals 
had  heen  purchased  by  the  Confederate  Govern- 
ment and  paid  for  in  money  and  bonds.  There 
was  supposed  to  be  little  left  worth  the  trouble 
of  capture.  The  homestead  was  therefore  left  in 
charge  of  Peter  Dennis,  a  faithful  colored  slave, 
with  Mrs.  Betty  Van  Metre  and  her  young  niece 
as  its  tenants. 

But  the  valley  of  Virginia  proved  to  be  one  of 
the  great  highways  of  civil  war.  From  its  pro- 
ductive capacity  the  Confederacy  was  to  derive  a 
large  proportion  of  its  provisions.  Its  people 
could  temporarily  leave  the  service  in  the  spring, 
raise  and  harvest  a  crop,  and  return  to  active 
service  in  the  autumn.  Therefore  the  tidal  wave 
of  war  annually  and  sometimes  quarterly  rolled 
up  and  down  the  valley,  every  time  engulfing 
the  Van  Metre  homestead,  until  nearly  every 
useful  animal,  every  wheeled  vehicle,  all  the  hay, 
straw,  in  short,  almost  everything  portable  had 
been  swept  away.  Even  the  able-bodied  slaves 
had  been  sent  as  laborers  to  the  Confederate  front. 
The  mill  and  outbuildings  had  so  far  escaped  de- 
struction or  much  injury.  As  "single  misfor- 
tunes do  not  come  alone,"  in  the  summer  of  1864 
Van  Metre  was  captured  and  became  a  prisoner 
to  the  Union  forces. 

We  will  not  undertake  to  follow  the  Northern 
army,  which  under  the  command  of  Sheridan 
"went  into"  the  valley  early  in  August,  1804. 


40  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

On  the  10th  of  that  month  his  whole  command 
moved  out  of  Harper's  Ferry  and  went  into  camp 
at  Chfton,  a  large  plantation  near  Berryville. 
Here  and  hereabout  the  Vermont  brigade  re- 
mained for  several  days.  It  came  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  some  of  the  officers  of  that  brigade  that 
in  the  stone  mill  and  dwelling  already  mentioned, 
Mrs.  Van  Metre,  the  wife  of  the  owner,  with  her 
young  niece  and  an  old  colored  servant,  was  living 
alone  and  unprotected.  Over  this  homestead  they 
stationed  and  maintained  a  guard  which  secured 
it  against  further  intrusion.  To  show  her  grati- 
tude for  such  protection,  Mrs.  Van  Metre  sug- 
gested that  while  she  had  no  provisions  of  her 
own,  she  might  prepare  their  army  rations  in  a 
manner  which  would  remind  them  of  the  cooking 
of  their  wives  and  daughters  at  home.  The  offi- 
cers accordingly  sent  her  their  beef,  bacon,  and 
hard-tack,  and  adding  a  few  vegetables  from  her 
own  garden  she  prepared  for  them  several  dinners. 
These  dinners  so  spread  her  reputation  as  a  cook 
that  until  the  brigade  moved  away  her  table 
was  filled  daily  with  as  many  guests  as  she 
could  accommodate.  The  officers  were  all  gen- 
tlemen, who  treated  her  with  the  respect  they 
would  have  demanded  for  their  mothers  or  their 
wives,  and  the  dinners  became  memorable. 
When  they  went  to  the  field,  many  of  them  to 
their  deaths,  there  was  not  one  who  did  not 
carry  with  him  a  profound  respect  for  Mistress 


THE  CALL  TO  ARMS  IN  THE  VALLEY.      41 

Betty  Van  Metre.      How  far   she   remembered 
them  we  shall  learn  hereafter. 

The  time  of  his  or  her  introduction  into  a  story 
is  usually  the  occasion  for  the  description  of  the 
principal  character.  In  the  course  of  this  nar- 
rative the  reader  will  form  a  very  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  Mrs.  Betty  Van  Metre.  I  prefer 
to  leave  him  to  form  his  own  opinion  of  her  with- 
out any  influence  of  mine.  I  shall  give  a  very 
brief  sketch  of  her  origin  and  her  life  up  to  her 
nineteenth  year,  when  she  becomes  more  actively 
connected  with  this  history.  Beyond  that  I  shall 
leave  her  to  be  known  and  judged  by  her  own 
conduct — her  own  construction  of  the  duty  of  a 
true  woman. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW    A   BRAVE    MAN    MET    THE    HEAVY    STROKE    OF 
MERCILESS   WAR. 

Our  story  is  now  touched  by  the  bloody  hand 
of  active  War.  The  Vermont  brigade,  to  which 
Bedell's  regiment  was  attached,  belonged  to  the 
division  then  commanded  by  that  brave  and  popu- 
lar officer  General  Getty.  The  division  was  in 
camp  on  the  farm  called  Claremont,  about  three 
miles  north  from  Berryville  and  about  two  miles 
west  of  the  turnpike  from  Harper's  Ferry  through 
Charlestown  and  thence  up  the  valley.  Win- 
chester, the  largest  city  in  the  lower  valley,  lies 
ten  and  a  half  miles  due  west  from  Berryville 
on  another  turnpike.  About  half-way  from 
Berryville  to  Winchester,  the  road  b}^  a  ford 
crosses  the  Opequan  (pronounced  Opeccan)  Creek, 
which  runs  northerly  into  the  Potomac  at 
Williamsport.  The  banks  of  this  creek  are 
high  and  bold,  and  in  high  water  the  ford  is 
frequently  impassable. 

On  the  morning  of  September  1.3th,  1864,  the 
division  of  General  Getty  moved  out  toward  the 
Opequan  to  ascertain  the  position  of  the  army  of 

42 


A    BRAVE   MAN    IN    THE    WAR.  43 

General  Early,  then  known  to  be  on  the  west 
bank  of  that  river.  The  Vermont  brigade  had 
the  advance,  the  third  and  fourth  regiments  being 
deployed  as  skirmishers.  There  were  no  fences, 
and  the  force  moved  directly  across  the  country 
about  five  miles  to  the  creek.  Sheridan  and 
Wright  accompanied  the  column. 

The  skirmishers  reached  and  forded  the  creek, 
meeting  the  Confederate  pickets  a  short  distance 
up  and  beyond  the  west  bank.  Captain  Cowan's 
battery  went  into  position  on  the  east  side  of  the 
creek  and  opened  fire,  hoping  thus  to  discover  the 
enemy's  camps  in  that  vicinity  and  their  numer- 
ical strength.  This  battery  was  in  plain  view 
from  the  opposite  side.  There  was  an  occasional 
shot  from  the  rifles  of  the  skirmishers  in  advance 
of  Cowan's  battery  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
creek,  and  the  rest  of  the  division  was  massed 
in  a  wood  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind  the  battery. 
This  wood  was  free  from  underbrush ;  it  afforded 
an  excellent  shade;  the  men  were  scattered  in 
groups  among  the  stacked  rifles,  conversing  or 
otherwise  amusing  themselves. 

It  is  now  known  from  Major  More,  the  officer 
upon  the  staff  of  General  Early  who  carried  the 
order,  that  the  fire  from  Cowan's  battery  having 
become  annoying,  General  Early  ordered  up  a 
heavier  battery  on  the  west  side  of  the  creek,  to 
silence  Cowan's  guns  or  compel  him  to  retire. 
The  first  shells  from  the  Confederate  guns  were 


44  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

fired  at  too  high  an  elevation,  passed  over  the 
guns  at  which  they  were  aimed,  and  exploded 
among  the  tree-tops,  doing  no  further  injury. 
But  this  error  was  soon  corrected,  and  the  shells 
hegan  to  plough  through  and  explode  among  the 
ranks  of  the  division  concealed  in  the  timber. 
Several  were  wounded;  the  lines  were  formed 
for  removal  to  some  safer  position.  But  as  the 
enemy's  missiles  began  to  fall  short  of  the  Union- 
ists, they  became  satisfied  that  their  exact  posi- 
tion was  unknown  to  the  enemy,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  firing  ceased  and  danger  was  over. 

Bedell  always  set  a  good  example  before  his 
men  when  under  fire.  As  an  officer  he  deemed 
it  his  duty  to  take  good  care  of  his  men  and  not 
to  attempt  concealment  of  his  own  person.  His 
great  height,  his  muscular  activity,  and  splendid 
physique  made  him  an  attractive  target,  of  which 
the  enemy  did  not  fail  to  avail  themselves.  He 
was  bravely  holding  his  men  in  line,  when  the 
guns  in  the  Confederate  battery  were  concen- 
trated upon  him ;  one  shell  exploded,  tearing  his 
right  hand,  leaving  three  fingers  each  hanging 
by  its  tendons,  and  he  fell.  A  second  shell  had 
crashed  through  his  left  thigh,  leaving  a  portion 
of  the  muscle  on  either  side,  and  a  horrible  mass 
of  crushed  bones,  mangled  flesh,  and  gushing 
arteries  in  its  pathway. 

As  he  fell  and  saw  the  bright  red  blood  spurt- 
inir  from  the  severed  arteries,  he  made  a  brave 


A   BRAVE   MAN   IN   THE   WAR.  45 

attempt  to  compress  his  thigh  with  his  uninjured 
and  his  mangled  hand,  for  he  knew  that  a  brief 
delay  involved  his  death.  It  was  ineffectual,  for 
there  was  but  little  strength  in  that  fragment  of 
a  hand.  "  Cord  it,  boys !"  he  exclaimed  as  he  lay 
upon  the  ground.  "Don't  let  me  bleed  to  death! 
Cord  it !  with  a  handkerchief  or  anything,  quick ! 
A  ramrod  and  a  handkerchief  will  do  it!" 

Willing  hands  tied  the  handkerchief,  but  they 
were  nervous  and  the  rude  substitute  gave  way 
under  the  too  sudden  twist,  and  again  the  scar- 
let torrent  burst  out,  impelled  by  the  power- 
ful pulsations  of  his  vigorous  heart.  "Try  it 
once  more,  boys!"  he  exclaimed.  "Try  a  bay- 
onet the  next  time — it's  my  only  chance!"  A 
young  officer  tore  his  sash  from  his  own  shoulders, 
passed  it  twice  around  the  limb,  tied  it,  another 
inserted  a  bayonet,  and  with  a  single  powerful 
twist  the  success  of  the  improvised  torniquet  was 
complete — the  bleeding  was  arrested  and  for  the 
moment  his  life  was  saved. 

He  was  more  than  five  miles  from  the  camp  to 
which  the  division  was  about  to  return.  They 
bore  him  on  a  stretcher  to  a  temporary  field  hos- 
pital, where  the  surgeons  began  to  debate  whether 
there  was  anything  to  be  gained  by  an  amputa- 
tion. It  was  a  most  difficult  operation  at  the 
best.  Weakened  by  his  other  v/ounds,  they 
feared  he  might  die  under  the  surgeon's  knife. 

The  brave  man  promptly  settled  the  question. 


46  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

"Is  it  not  certain  that  this  wound  will  be  fatal  if 
the  leg  is  not  amputated?"  he  asked.  Thej 
agreed  it  was.  "Then  lose  not  a  moment's 
time,"  he  said.  "There  is  a  chance  of  recovery 
if  the  leg  is  amputated — there  is  none  if  it  is 
not.     In  such  a  case  I  take  the  chance !" 

They  laid  him  upon  the  table  and  the  skilled 
hands  of  the  surgeons  of  the  Vermont  brigade 
performed  the  amputation.  Everything  was 
done  for  him  that  could  be  suggested  by  science 
and  skill,  and  the  sufferer  was  made  as  comforta- 
ble as  the  rude  conditions  of  war  permitted. 
"Still,"  said  the  account  of  Colonel  Walker, 
"  there  was  very  little  hope.  Though  his  native 
vigor  was  in  his  favor,  his  very  size  and  the 
muscular  strength  upon  which  he  had  prided 
himself  were  against  him,  for  it  was  computed 
that  ovei^  sixty-four  square  inches  of  flesh  were 
severed  and  laid  bare  by  the  surgeon's  knife. 
And  it  was  also  found  that  his  right  hand  had 
been  terribly  injured,  the  bones  of  three  fingers 
and  of  the  middle  hand  having  been  crushed  and 
comminuted.  The  operation  already  performed 
had  been  so  severe  that  it  was  thought  best  not 
to  attempt  the  treatment  of  the  hand  until  it  was 
seen  whether  or  not  he  would  rally  from  the 
shock  of  the  wounds  and  the  amputation." 

About  dusk  the  army  returned  to  their  camp 
at  Claremont.  That  journey  was  a  terrible  ordeal 
to  the  wounded  man.     It  would  have  been  severe 


A   BRAVE    MAN    IN   THE   WAR.  47 

enough  if  his  ambulance  had  moved  over  an 
ordinary  turnpike  road  for  that  distance  imme- 
diately after  he  had  undergone  such  a  fearful 
trial.  But  there  were  no  fences  left  and  few 
cross-roads.  The  army  moved  as  the  crow  flies, 
straight  across  the  country,  over  stone  walls 
half  torn  down,  across  ditches  half  filled  with 
broken  timbers.  Thus  jolted  and  shaken,  an 
ordinary  life  would  have  inevitably  been  de- 
stroyed. But  Bedell's  was  not  an  ordinary  life. 
He  determined  to  live  if  he  could.  Sustained  by 
stimulants  and  his  indomitable  courage,  at  last 
in  the  darkness  he  reached  the  camp  of  the  divi- 
sion alive. 

A  short  distance  eastward  from  the  camp,  on 
another  farm,  was  a  house  which  had  been 
deserted  by  the  owner  and  his  family.  The 
basement  was  occupied  by  an  old  man  and  his 
wife,  both  apparently  destitute  of  human  hearts 
and  sympathies.  Tempted  by  the  promise  of  re- 
wards, they  consented  that  Bedell  should  be 
placed  in  one  of  the  unoccupied  rooms  of  the 
second  story  of  the  house,  and  then,  having  made 
him  as  comfortable  as  they  could,  his  companions 
left  him  for  the  night,  scarcely  exjDecting  that  the 
morning  sun  would  see  him  alive. 

The  next  morning  the  surgeon  of  his  regiment 
found  him  not  only  alive,  but  stronger  than  he 
was  the  evening  before.  After  an  examination 
and  the  statement  that  he  was  delighted  to  see 


48  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

him  feeling  better,  he  was  about  to  leave,  when 
Bedell  said  to  him : 

"Surgeon,  you  doctors  think  I  have  got  my 
fatal  wound — that  I  cannot  live.  You  propose 
to  make  my  short  journey  to  the  grave  as  easy 
as  possible.  I  know  perfectly  well  that  the 
chances  are  against  me.  But  I  have  got  a  wife 
and  children  up  in  Vermont  who  want  me.  I 
want  to  live  on  my  own  account — much  more 
on  theirs.  I  am  going  to  make  the  hardest  fight 
for  life  of  which  I  am  capable.  I  want  you  to 
helj)  me.  I  want  you  to  bring  the  surgeons  of 
the  Fourth  and  Fifth  Vermont  right  here  as  soon 
as  you  can.  I  want  to  talk  the  matter  over  and 
see  what  can  be  done  to  save  me." 

"  I  will  do  it.  God  knows  if  you  die  it  shall 
not  be  for  want  of  anything  that  I  can  do  for 
you,"  said  the  surgeon. 

By  nine  o'clock  the  surgeon  of  his  own  regiment 
and  three  others  were  in  consultation  over  him. 
He  insisted  that  they  should  discuss  the  case  in 
his  presence.  The  surgeon  of  his  own  regiment, 
the  youngest  of  the  four,  alone  expressed  any 
hope.  The  three  others  said  that  such  an  am- 
putation, almost  at  the  very  hip,  was  fatal  in  the 
majority  of  cases  without  other  complications. 
In  this  case  it  was  complicated  with  the  wounded 
hand  and  the  want  of  hospital  accommodations; 
and  there  were  other  reasons  why  they  considered 
his  case  hopeless. 


A   BRAVE   MAN   IN   THE   WAR.  49 

The  younger  man  said  but  little.  Bedell  waited 
until  none  of  the  surgeons  had  anything  to  add. 
Then,  as  coolly  as  if  he  were  speaking  of  another, 
he  said : 

"  Gentlemen,  my  life  is  not  my  own  property. 
For  another  year  it  belongs  to  the  United  States. 
After  that  my  wife  and  children  own  it.  I  shall 
save  it  if  I  can.  I  shall  not  throw  away  one 
chance  to  save  it.  I  decide  to  place  myself  in 
the  hands  of  the  surgeon  of  my  own  regiment. 
I  know  he  will  do  all  he  can  for  me.  I  want  one 
of  you  to  write  for  me  a  letter  to  my  wife.  Then 
I  will  put  myself  under  his  direction." 

"I  will  write  for  you — I  will  do  anything  that 
man  can  do  for  you,"  said  the  elder  of  the  sur- 
geons, "for  you  deserve  to  live."  He  drew  a 
table  to  the  side  of  the  wounded  man  and  wrote 
to  his  wife  from  his  dictation  what  might  prove 
to  be  his  last  letter.  It  told  her  the  simple  truth. 
He  had  been  desperately  wounded — his  right  leg 
had  been  amputated — he  was  about  to  undergo 
another  operation,  which  might  terminate  his  life. 
Still  he  had  some  hope.  He  gave  her  plain  di- 
rections about  closing  his  estate  and  the  educa- 
tion of  the  children.  Its  closing  words  were  so 
touching  that  he  alone  of  those  present  was  able 
to  control  his  emotions.  There  ran  through  it  a 
single  ray  of  hope,  so  faint  at  times  that  it  was 
scarcely  visible.  It  was  just  possible  that  he 
might  survive  the  operation  about  to  be  per- 
4 


50  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

formed.  It  was  a  model  letter  of  a  fearless  sol- 
dier and  a  loving  husband  writing  to  his  wife 
for  the  last  time.  With  his  left  hand,  assisted 
by  the  surgeon,  he  wrote  what  bore  some  resem- 
blance to  his  name,  saw  the  letter  sealed  and 
directed.  The  older  surgeon  promised  to  mail  it, 
and  then,  turning  to  the  surgeon  of  the  Eleventh 
Vermont,  Bedell  said,  "Doctor,  I  am  ready." 

The  young  surgeon  did  not  flinch.  They 
brought  in  a  table  and  laid  the  wounded  man 
upon  it.  Bedell  watched  the  preparations  with 
the  coolness  of  a  disinterested  spectator.  But 
when  the}''  offered  him  the  anaesthetic,  he  de- 
clined to  take  it.  He  preferred  to  retain  his  con- 
sciousness, 

"  The  amputation  and  dressing  of  your  wounded 
hand  and  the  dressing  of  your  amputated  thigh 
will  be  tedious  and  exhausting,"  said  the  sur- 
geon. "  We  must  husband  every  ounce  of  your 
strength.  You  will  require  it  all,  and  whether 
it  will  prove  sufficient  God  only  knows." 

To  this  argument  Bedell  promptly  yielded. 
The  blessed  boon,  which  has  spared  humanity 
such  a  vast  amount  of  pain,  was  administered 
and  the  wounded  man  became  unconscious. 

The  writer  is  not  a  surgeon,  and  if  he  were  he 
does  not  know  that  the  description  of  the  long 
and  careful  process  of  amputating  the  fingers, 
repairing  the  stump  of  the  hand,  and  dressing  the 
thigh  would  be  interesting  to  his  readers.     The 


A  BRAVE   MAN  IN   THE   WAR.  51 

hand  proved  to  have  been  reduced  to  a  shapeless 
mass  of  fractured  bone,  crushed  muscle,  veins 
and  arteries,  and  severed  nerves.  The  surgeon 
was  skilful  and  worked  with  rapidity.  But  it 
was  a  full  hour  after  the  patient  was  laid  upon 
the  table  before  the  operation  was  completed. 

A  narrow  bed  filled  with  straw  and  laid  upon 
the  floor,  in  a  room  from  which  everything  even 
to  the  window-shades  had  been  removed,  was  the 
only  couch  they  could  procure  for  the  wounded 
man.  His  covering  was  an  army  blanket.  To 
this  bed  they  returned  him  in  the  bloody  clothing 
worn  when  he  fell.  Had  Bedell  been  in  his 
mountain  home,  or  in  a  hospital  where  he  could 
have  had  projDer  care  and  a  comfortable  bed,  his 
subsequent  experience  showed  that  he  would  have 
had  an  uninterrupted  progress  toward  recovery. 
Even  here  the  surgeon  hoped  that  he  might 
secure  the  constant  attendance  of  a  nurse,  the 
dressing  of  his  wounds  as  often  as  was  necessary, 
and  the  regular  administration  of  stimulants  and 
of  strengthening  food.  After  a  few  days'  rest  he 
could  be  removed  to  Harper's  Ferry,  where  he 
could  be  supplied  with  every  necessity.  He  then 
explained  to  Bedell  the  treatment  he  intended 
should  be  pursued,  provided  him  with  refreshing 
food,  placed  him  in  charge  of  a  soldier  nurse, 
and  left  him  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

DESERTED. 

When  at  sunrise  the  next  morning  the  surgeon 
made  an  early  call,  he  was  delighted  to  find  his 
patient's  condition  greatly  improved.  He  had 
had  a  fair  nighfs  rest.  His  appetite  was  good 
and  he  was  free  from  pain.  He  complimented 
Bedell  upon  his  vigorous  constitution,  which  with 
proper  assistance  he  helieved  would  carry  him 
through  to  perfect  recovery.  He  informed  him 
that  he  had  made  a  requisition  upon  the  agency 
of  the  Sanitary  Commission  at  Harper's  Ferry  for 
a  cot  bedstead  and  other  conveniences,  which 
would  be  received  in  the  course  of  three  or  four 
days.  Until  then  the  same  course  of  treatment 
already  adopted  was  to  be  pursued. 

Both  the  surgeon  and  Bedell  were  conscious 
that  his  struggle  for  life  had  only  just  begun. 
In  cases  of  severe  wounds  like  his,  nature  merci- 
fully provides  a  torpidity  of  the  nerves  which 
renders  them  for  a  short  time  almost  insensible 
to  pain.  But  when  the  parts  become  inflamed 
there  is  an  increased  sensitiveness  and  the  pain 
is  sometimes  almost  intolerable.     This  inflamma- 


DESERTED.  5o 

tion  in  Bedell's  case  was  certain  to  occur,  though 
it  was  hoped  to  keep  it  under  control  by  careful 
treatment  and  constant  attention. 

For  two  or  three  days  the  case  progressed  as 
well  as  the  surgeon  expected.  There  was  con- 
siderable inflammation,  but  the  patient  remained 
perfectly  quiet,  and  by  constant  bathing  and  other 
applications  the  pain  was  kept  under  control. 
He  was  growing  stronger  and  progressing  steadily 
toward  recovery. 

But  there  were  several  incidents  of  Bedell's  sit- 
uation which  were  very  unsatisfactory.  The  No- 
vember storms  were  commencing;  the  room  he 
occupied  was  open  in  many  places  to  the  weather 
and  there  was  no  way  of  heating  it.  The  old 
couple  named  Asbury,  who  w^ere  probably  tres- 
passers in  the  basement,  but  who  claimed  to  have 
been  left  in  possession  by  the  owner,  proved  to 
be  human  only  in  form  and  apparently  destitute 
of  all  human  sympathy.  They  promised  when 
paid  in  advance  to  attend  upon  Bedell's  wants 
and  to  prepare  his  food,  but  as  soon  as  the  sur- 
geon's nurse  withdrew  they  appropriated  his  sup- 
plies and  then  gave  him  no  farther  attention. 
The  house  was  far  enough  away  from  the  camp 
at  Claremont  to  make  it  an  attraction  to  the 
guerillas  then  roving  over  the  country,  and  no 
ordinary  guard  was  an  adequate  security  against 
them. 

Finding  that  the  Asburys  were  more  likely  to 


54  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

betray  Bedell  to  some  of  their  friends  who  were 
marauding  the  country  than  they  were  to  do 
anything  to  assist  him,  the  surgeon  determined 
to  rely  upon  a  guard  from  the  camp  to  nurse  and 
protect  his  patient.  But  it  was  not  many  days 
before  even  this  jDrecarious  protection  had  to  be 
withdrawn.  An  advance  movement  of  the  Union 
array  was  about  to  take  place,  and  by  way  of 
preparation  for  it,  peremptory  orders  were  issued 
that  all  the  sick  and  wounded  should  be  at  once 
removed  to  the  hospital  at  Harper's  Ferry,  more 
than  twenty  miles  away. 

The  heart  of  the  young  surgeon  sank  at  the 
prospect  for  poor  Bedell.  He  did  not  believe 
that  he  could  endure  the  pain  of  transportation 
even  for  a  mile,  and  to  leave  him  was  to  abandon 
him  to  certain  death.  Mosby,  a  daring  partisan 
leader,  was  always  close  upon  the  rear  of  a  re- 
treating Federal  army,  ready  to  dash  upon  it  at 
the  first  opening.  He  had  captured  officers  in 
towns  when  they  were  surrounded  by  their  own 
men.  Under  the  claim  that  Custer  had  executed 
sojne  of  his  men  on  the  ground  that  they  were 
not  regularly  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  army, 
Mosby  by  way  of  retaliation  had  just  hung  five 
Union  soldiers  on  the  same  tree.  A  Federal 
officer  captured  by  Mosby,  well  or  wounded, 
would  probably  have  short  shrift.  Nor  were 
Mosby's  men  the  worst  of  the  marauders.  The 
caves  in  the  mountains  were  literally  swarming 


DESERTED.  55 

with  the  most  abandoned  species  of  wretches  ever 
created  in  the  human  form.  They  comprised  all 
the  criminals  of  the  region,  with  recruits  of  men 
who  had  fled  from  the  draft,  bounty -jumpers, 
deserters,  and  vagabonds  of  all  kinds.  Some 
were  counterfeiters,  some  illicit  distillers — all 
thieves  and  robbers  and,  upon  any  prospect  of 
gain,  murderers.  They  were  impartial — they 
robbed  both  sides ;  no  one  who  had  anything  to 
lose  was  safe  from  their  bloody  knives.  There 
were  other  wretches  in  the  towns  who  gave  them 
notice  of  any  possible  victim  and  with  whom  they 
divided  their  spoils.  They  promptly  appeared  on 
every  battle-field  and  murdered  the  wounded ;  it 
was  unsafe  to  travel  any  road  after  nightfall, 
for  to  encounter  them  was  death.  Compared 
with  the  operations  of  these  outlaws,  bushwhack- 
ing was  Christian  warfare. 

It  would  be  more  merciful  to  shoot  the  wounded 
officer  upon  his  pallet  of  straw  than  to  leave  him 
to  the  mercy  of  these  miscreants.  Every  effort 
for  his  safe  removal  must  be  exhausted  before 
that  alternative  could  be  considered. 

These  sudden  and  unexpected  movements  are 
among  the  most  cruel  incidents  of  war.  They 
always  cost  many  lives.  The  wounded  are  taken 
from  comfortable  beds  when  their  cases  are  fa- 
vorably progressing,  crowded  into  army  wagons 
and  ambulances  and  hurried  away  over  the  rough 
and   broken  roads,   too  many  of  them  to  their 


66  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

deaths.  On  this  occasion  the  procession  that 
moved  northward  was  not  large,  for  as  yet  there 
had  been  no  great  battle  since  this  army  entered 
the  valley. 

An  earnest  and  careful  attempt  was  made  to 
remove  Bedell.  The  ambulance  was  cushioned, 
he  was  carried  very  gently  and  laid  on  a  bed  on 
the  floor  of  the  vehicle.  But  now  all  his  wounds 
had  become  inflamed  and  every  injured  nerve 
and  severed  muscle  was  in  angry  rebellion.  The 
ambulance  moved  very  slowly,  but  the  shaking 
and  jolting  as  the  wheels  fell  into  v/ell-worn  ruts 
or  over  obstructions  \^^ere  unavoidable.  For  a 
time  he  bore  the  pain  without  a  murmur.  He 
uttered  no  complaint — not  a  groan  escaped  him. 
But  the  tax  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  There 
was  a  shiver — his  face  turned  an  ashen  color, 
and  he  fainted.  So  far  as  his  own  suffering  was 
concerned  he  was  dead. 

The  ambulance  was  moved  out  of  the  jDroces- 
sion  into  a  field;  the  officers  of  his  regiment  and 
his  friends  gathered  about  him.  What  was  to 
be  done?  To  persist  in  the  attempt  to  remove 
him  would  be  fatal.  He  would  die  before  he 
had  made  one  mile  of  the  twenty.  To  leave  him 
would  expose  him  to  a  death  almost  equally  cer- 
tain. The  horizon  of  his  fate  seemed  closing  in 
on  every  side. 

During  the  conference  Bedell  recovered  hi?i 
consciousness.      Again  his  clear  judgment  con- 


DESERTED.  57 

sidered  the  situation  and  decided  what  should  be 
done.  He  could  not  be  removed,  for  he  had  not 
the  strength  to  survive  the  journey.  One  man 
like  himself  must  not  obstruct  the  movement  of 
an  army.  There  was  only  one  thing  to  be  done. 
They  must  return  him  to  his  pallet  of  straw, 
arrange  whatever  they  could  for  his  protection, 
and  leave  him  to  take  his  chance  of  life,  however 
small  it  might  seem  to  be. 

They  replaced  him  upon  his  straw  mattrass, 
nearer  to  death  than  he  had  been  at  any  time 
before.  But  he  had  brother-officers  who  would 
not  abandon  him.  His  desertion  might  be  ex- 
cused as  a  cruel  necessity,  they  said,  but  it  would 
be  none  the  less  the  act  of  cowards.  As  soon 
as  our  army  retired  the  scavengers  of  the  camp 
and  field  would  spread  over  the  country.  They 
took  no  prisoners,  left  no  living  witnesses  of  their 
atrocities.  If  Bedell  was  left  alone  they  would 
murder  him.  But  they  would  not  attack  two  or 
three  determined  men. 

Bedell  calmly  told  them  that  after  that  day's 
experience  he  had  little  hope  of  recovery;  that 
obviously  there  was  only  one  possible  course,  they 
must  leave  him ;  a  soldier  might  remain  with  him 
if  they  thought  best ;  they  could  give  him  some 
supplies,  and  that  was  all  they  could  do.  When 
they  got  to  Harper's  Ferry,  if  he  lived,  they  could 
consult  about  his  further  removal. 

Bedell  so  calmly  took  upon  himself  as  his  obvi- 


5S  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

ous  duty  as  a  soldier  all  the  risks  of  the  situation 
that  his  brother-officers  yielded,  although  one  of 
them  said  that  in  so  doing  he  felt  as  if  he  deserved 
to  be  kicked  out  of  camjD  by  a  mule.  They  selected 
as  his  nurse  a  man  not  in  uniform,  arranged  a  box 
of  crackers  so  that  it  raised  the  head  of  his  bed, 
and  placed  within  his  reach  vessels  of  water  and 
cooked  food  enough  to  sustain  life  for  several  days. 
The  surgeon  determined  to  make  one  more  effort 
to  secure  the  services  of  the  Asburys.  He  knew 
they  were  faithless,  but  he  hoj^ed  to  secure  their 
services  by  partial  payment  and  the  promise  of 
future  rewards.  They  promised;  they  accepted 
his  money ;  they  agreed  to  visit  Bedell  hourly — to 
prepare  his  food  and  to  do  everything  he  required. 

Having  made  these  arrangements,  the  best 
that  the  circumstances  admitted,  the  surgeon 
and  his  brother-officers  bade  the  wounded  man 
farewell  and  took  their  unwilling  leave.  A 
short  distance  from  the  house  they  passed  the 
small  dwelling  of  a  colored  man  who  stood  at  his 
open  door.  "What  is  your  name,  uncle?"  asked 
the  surgeon. 

"My  name  is  Dick  Runner,  suh,"  he  civilly 
answered. 

"What  is  your  work,  and  is  this  your  house?" 
pursued  the  inquirer. 

"I  work  for  Missus  Van  Metre  in  the  mill. 
Me  and  Ginny,  my  wife,  have  lived  here  all  our 
lives,  suh." 


DESERTED.  59 

"Uncle,"  said  the  surgeon,  holding  up  two 
bright,  new  greenbacks,  "these  are  for  you. 
In  that  room"  (pointing  to  one  he  had  just  left) 
"is  a  wounded  Union  officer.  I  want  you  to 
go  and  see  him  every  morning  and  see  that  he 
wants  for  nothing.     Will  you  do  so?" 

"I  will  see  de  Union  officer  ebery  day,  suh,  but 
I  cannot  take  pay  for  it.  I  know  what  for  he 
come  here.  He  is  one  of  Lincoln's  men.  Me  an' 
Ginny  will  do  all  we  can  for  him,  but  not  for 
money — no,  not  for  money." 

"Then  take  the  money  and  buy  medicines  for 
him, "  said  the  surgeon.  "  We  have  to  leave  him 
to  go  with  the  army.  The  Asburys  have  prom- 
ised to  care  for  him,  but  we  do  not  like  to  trust 
them.  We  think  if  you  promised  you  would 
keep  your  word." 

"  Dem  Asburys  is  no  good,  suh.  Dey're  squat- 
ters. Dey've  got  no  business  in  dat  house.  You 
can't  trust  'em.  But  me  an'  Ginny  will  do  what 
we  can  for  de  wounded  officer.  But  we  don' 
want  no  pay.  What  for  you  didn't  see  Missus 
Van  Metre?  She's  a  woman  an'  a  lady,  is  Mis- 
sus Van  Metre.  She  will  help  anybody  dat's 
in  trouble." 

"We  cannot  wait  now  to  see  anybody.  Our 
regiment  is  already  miles  away,  uncle!"  said  the 
surgeon,  much  impressed  by  the  simple  honesty 
of  the  colored  man.  "  We  wish  you  would  take 
some  money,  and  look  after  our  brother -officer. 


60  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

You  would  relieve  our  minds  if  you  would,  for 
it  cuts  us  to  the  heart  to  leave  him,  and  we  fear 
he  is  near  his  end." 

But  Uncle  Dick  was  obstinate.  He  would  do 
all  he  could  for  the  wounded  man,  but  he  would 
not  take  money.  As  the  surgeon  shook  his  honest 
hand  and  with  the  other  grasped  that  of  Ginny, 
he  left  in  hers  a  roll  of  paper  covering  a  small 
sum  in  greenbacks,  and  before  she  could  recover 
from  her  surprise  enough  to  protest,  he  had  hur- 
ried away. 

With  the  retirement  of  the  army  began  a 
time  of  physical  and  mental  anxiety  and  distress 
for  Bedell  which  no  pen  can  adequately  describe. 
The  army  retired  to  Harper's  Ferry.  When  it 
again  advanced,  Martinsburg,  farther  west,  be- 
came its  base  of  supplies,  and  the  region  around 
Berryville,  instead  of  being  traversed  every  few 
days  by  army  trains,  was  not  again  visited  for 
many  weeks  by  Union  troops.  This  part  of  Clarke 
County  became  the  hunting-ground  for  guerillas, 
camp-followers,  tramps,  and  deserters.  Bush- 
whacking, robbing,  and  murder  were  too  common 
to  attract  attention.  The  tramps  expected  no 
quarter  and  gave  none.  Two  or  three  times 
Custer's  cavalry  swept  over  the  county,  and  left 
the  murderers  they  captured  hanging  from  the 
trees  along  the  turnpike.  Every  Union  soldier 
who  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  roving  murder- 
ers was  hung  or  shot  as  soon  as    he  had    been 


DESERTED.  61 

robbed.  For  the  first  few  days  the  house  where 
Bedell  lay  escaped  their  visitations.  It  was  some 
distance  away  from  the  turnpike  and  was  sup- 
jDosed  to  have  been  deserted.  Several  of  these 
parties  were  turned  away  by  the  apparent  stu- 
pidity of  Uncle  Dick  Runner,  who  always  con- 
trived to  intercept  and  show  them  that  there  was 
no  spoil  here,  but  that  there  were  fresh  fields  and 
pastures  new  in  some  other  direction. 

When  the  officers  of  Bedell's  regiment  parted 
from  him  they  had  almost  no  hope  that  he  would 
survive.  The  strain  of  his  attempted  removal 
had  been  very  injurious.  They  were  not  much 
surprised,  therefore,  when  the  nurse  left  with  him, 
two  or  three  days  afterward,  came  into  the  camp 
at  Harper's  Ferry  and  announced  that  Bedell  had 
died  and  he  had  seen  him  buried  that  morning! 

This  is  what  had  in  fact  taken  place:  The 
nurse  had  been  very  brave  before  the  army  left. 
Immediately  after  its  departure  he  began  to  show 
his  cowardice.  He  had  heard  that  an  attack  was 
to  be  made  that  night — one  man  could  make  no 
defence  against  guerillas !  In  short,  his  cowardly 
fear  so  wrought  upon  Bedell  in  his  nervous  con- 
dition that  he  begged  the  fellow  to  clear  out  and 
leave  him.  His  absence  he  might  survive — his 
presence  he  could  not  endure.  The  coward  left 
immediately,  and  to  excuse  his  own  conduct  circu- 
lated the  report  that  Bedell  was  dead. 

The  wounded  man's  next  ill-fortune  was  with 


63  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

the  Asburys,  who  lived  in  the  basement  and 
claimed  to  be  the  landlords  of  the  deserted  house. 
He  knew  that  they  had  been  paid  for  taking  care 
of  him  and  had  promised  his  friends  to  attend  to 
his  wants.  When,  therefore,  the  male  Asbury 
came  for  his  supplies,  promising  to  cook  him  a 
meal,  he  did  not  object  to  their  being  taken  away, 
leaving  only  the  box  of  crackers,  his  substitute 
for  a  pillow,  which  did  not  attract  Mr.  Asbury's 
notice.  The  patient's  provisions  being  thus  se- 
cured, the  inhuman  wretch  left  him  to  his  fate, 
and  Bedell  never  saw  either  of  the  Asburys  again. 

All  through  the  darkness  of  that  last  long  and 
gloomy  night  the  sufferer  tossed  upon  his  bed 
of  straw.  Hope  had  not  wholly  deserted  him. 
"Surely, "he  thought,  "they  will  at  least  bring 
me  my  breakfast."  But  the  hours  passed;  they 
did  not  come,  and  then  the  helpless  invalid  knew 
that  he  was  deserted. 

Two  days  and  two  very  long  nights  had  passed 
since  he  said  farewell  to  his  friends — it  was  now 
late  in  the  evening  of  the  third  day.  I  shall  not 
shock  the  sensibility  of  my  readers  by  a  descrip- 
tion of  Bedell's  sufferings  during  this  time.  It 
will  suffice  to  simply  outline  his  situation.  He 
was  helpless  from  desperate  wounds ;  he  was  not 
only  in  the  country  of  a  political  enemy,  but  in  a 
region  controlled  by  the  enemies  of  the  human 
race.  He  was  lying  on  a  straw  bed,  on  the  floor 
of  an   unfurnished  room,   through  the  walls  of 


DESERTED.  63 

which  the  rains  beat  and  the  winds  whistled.  He 
could  not  move  without  a  deathly  spasm  of  pain. 
He  had  been  robbed  of  his  supplies.  By  an  effort 
which  almost  exhausted  his  remaining  strength, 
his  single  hand  had  got  access  to  the  box  of 
crackers  under  his  head,  or  he  would  have  already 
starved.  The  guerillas  would  soon  be  upon  him, 
for  those  who  would  steal  his  food  would  betray 
him  to  the  enemy.  If  they  did  not,  his  wounds 
were  every  hour  becoming  more  inflamed  and 
more  painful,  and  their  pain  could  not  be  much 
longer  endured. 

Then  his  thoughts  went  to  his  mountain  home 
— to  the  wife  and  children  who  were  this  night  re- 
membering him  in  their  prayers,  but,  alas !  whom 
he  should  never  see  again.  What  would  he  not 
give  for  the  strength  to  write  them  one  last 
word,  the  power  to  give  them  one  last  counsel ! 

So  much  as  that  he  would  try  to  do.  In  the 
pocket  of  his  vest  there  was  a  lead -pencil.  With 
this,  on  the  cover  of  his  cracker-box,  he  would 
write  his  name,  his  regiment,  and  a  message  to 
his  family.  They  should  not  bury  him,  ignorant 
of  his  name,  in  an  unidentified  grave ! 

He  strove  to  reach  that  pencil  until  his  arm 
fell  from  exhaustion.  No,  he  could  not  even 
write  his  name  and  a  last  message  to  the  loved 
ones  at  home ! 

Then  he  began  to  wonder  when  he  would  die. 
Would  it  be  at  sunrise  to-morrow?     Most  men 


64  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

did  die  at  sunrise.  Would  he  see  the  sun  rise  in 
another  and  a  better  world  where  there  was  no 
suffering,  or  would  he  die  to-morrow  night  or 
the  next  morning?  Then  he  prayed  that,  weak 
and  helpless  and  stranded  as  he  was,  the  Lord 
would  show  him  whether  there  was  any  way 
that  he  could  yet  he  of  service  to  his  country. 

There  was  an  answer  to  his  prayer.  It  made 
every  nerve  in  his  body  thrill  with  hope.  His 
door  gently  opened  and  out  of  the  darkness  came 
a  whisper.  "Kunnel!"  it  said,  "I's  got  nuffin 
but  a  jug  of  cold  water  for  ye !     May  I  come  in?" 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

THE   UNCONSCIOUS   HEROINE. 

The  mining  engineer  of  1860  is  the  colonel  of 
a  Federal  regiment  in  1864:.  In  a  single  cam- 
paign he  has  left  half  his  regiment  on  the  plains 
of  Virginia,  and  now  in  the  early  autumn  he  has 
led  its  thinned  ranks  into  the  valley  of  Virginia. 
He  has  marched  his  men  from  Harper's  Ferry, 
by  the  Charlestown  turnpike,  over  the  same  route 
that  he  rode  in  1860,  and  with  the  brigade  to 
which  his  regiment  is  attached  is  now  in  camp 
at  Claremont,  one  of  the  farms  formerly  pointed 
out  to  him  as  the  property  of  Colonel  Luke,  cele- 
brated for  its  production  of  fine  horses. 

Early  one  morning  he  rode  out  to  find  the 
beautiful  estate  of  Audley,  which  had  so  im- 
pressed him  on  his  first  visit.  He  had  som.e  diffi- 
culty in  recognizing  it,  although  it  had  fared 
somewhat  better  than  its  neighbors.  Its  owner 
was  in  the  service  in  a  distant  part  of  the  Con- 
federacy. He  found  the  old  servant  who  had 
been  so  polite  and  hospitable,  but  who  did  not 
now  recognize  him.  He  had  changed  with  the 
estate.  His  hair  could  not  have  been  whiter  or 
5  65 


66  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

his  aspect  more  venerable ;  but  his  countenance 
was  sorrowful,  his  clothing  worn  and  rusty. 
From  him  the  colonel  learned  that  the  fine  horses 
and  cattle  had  been  exchanged  for  Confederate 
securities  early  in  1861.  The  wave  of  invasion 
and  retreat  which  had  so  many  times  rolled  up 
and  down  the  valley  had  injured  Audley  less 
than  its  neighbors,  but  it  had  levelled  the  fences 
and  destroyed  many  of  its  attractions.  There 
was  no  colored  flock  of  "sassy  imps"  to  greet 
the  traveller.  The  mistress  and  the  family  had 
left  the  valley  and  a  general  air  of  sadness 
pervaded  the  estate. 

The  colonel  extended  his  inquiries  to  the  Van 
Metre  farm  and  mill.  Here  greater  changes  had 
taken  place.  Its  proprietor  had  brought  from 
the  Luray  Valley  Miss  Elizabeth,  better  known 
as  Miss  Betty  Keyser,  to  become  its  mistress  and 
to  bear  his  name.  Then  he  had  enlisted  in  the 
Confederate  cavalry;  her  two  brothers  in  other 
branches  of  the  service.  She  must  have  been  a 
young  bride,  for  now  in  1864  she  had  not  com- 
pleted her  nineteenth  year.  Like  another  Penel- 
ope, she  was  keeping  the  mill  and  farm  to  await 
her  husband's  return.  There,  with  Peter,  a  for- 
mer slave,  Dick  Eunner,  a  colored  man  in  the  mill, 
Ginny,  his  wife,  and  her  young  niece  of  nine 
years,  she  still  lived,  though  battles  had  raged 
and  the  unloosed  dogs  of  war  with  bloody  mouths 
had    howled   around   her   for   more   than   three 


THE   UNCONSCIOUS   HEROINE.  67 

years.  The  mill  farm  had  suffered  with  the 
others.  The  horses,  cattle,  all  the  live-stock,  all 
the  wagons  and  other  vehicles,  everything  which 
could  subsist  men  or  animals  had  been  swept 
away.  The  mill  was  no  longer  a  source  of  in- 
come, for  there  was  no  more  wheat  or  corn  to  be 
ground.  The  fences  had  been  levelled;  the  thrift 
and  prosperity  which  the  traveller  witnessed  only 
four  years  before  had  melted  away  in  the  lurid 
atmosphere  of  three  years  of  relentless  war. 

The  brave  young  wife,  with  a  colored  man 
once  a  slave  but,  although  now  free,  faithful  to 
his  mistress,  had  kept  the  mill  and  farm  through 
all  the  disturbances  of  war.  Her  husband,  after 
long  immunity  from  wounds  and  calamities,  had 
been  captured,  and  on  his  way  to  Harper's  Ferry 
had  been  permitted  by  his  captors  to  call  at  his 
home,  procure  a  change  of  clothing,  and  take 
leave  of  his  wife.  Then  he  had  been  carried 
North  to  encounter  vicissitudes,  of  which  more 
will  be  written  in  the  course  of  the  story.  In 
one  respect  the  reports  which  the  colonel  had 
from  his  colored  informant  and  other  sources 
agreed.  The  young  wife  from  the  Luray  Valley 
was  a  woman  of  strong  character  who  had  secured 
the  respect  of  all  who  had  been  brought  into  con- 
tact with  her  by  the  fortunes  of  war;  her  prop- 
erty had  been  to  some  extent  protected  by  Con- 
federates and  Unionists,  and  up  to  this  time  even 
the  camp-followers  had  not  raided  her  home. 


68  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

When  the  colonel  returned  to  his  camp  at 
Claremont  he  ordered  a  guard  for  the  protection 
of  the  Van  Metre  homestead,  and  directed  that 
it  should  be  maintained  until  the  army  moved. 
Afterward  he  with  other  officers  of  his  brigade 
called  at  the  door  and  made  the  young  wife's  ac- 
quaintance. They  were  all  impressed  with  the 
brave  attempt  at  cheerfulness  which  she  main- 
tained in  her  loneliness,  and  all  treated  her  with 
deference  and  kindness ;  for  they  knew  that  as 
yet  she  was  only  a  Southern  girl,  living  in  the 
midst  of  war,  at  the  mercy  of  those  she  had  been 
taught  to  look  upon  as  the  deadly  enemies  of 
herself  and  her  people,  and  who  were  even  then 
holding  her  husband  as  a  prisoner.  She  was 
living,  with  no  companion  but  her  little  niece, 
like  so  many  other  sorrowful  women  North  and 
South,  patient  in  their  anxiety  and  desolation, 
waiting  and  praying  for  peace. 

These  officers  speedily  made  the  discovery  that 
this  young  Virginia  matron  was  a  lady  both  by 
nature  and  education.  She  expressed  her  grati- 
tude for  their  protection  of  her  property,  and  in 
every  other  respect  conducted  herself  with  marked 
propriety  and  dignity.  As  already  mentioned, 
it  was  one  of  these  officers,  weary  of  the  eternal 
sameness  of  the  army  ration,  who  with  a  tender 
memory  of  the  superiority  of  his  mother's  cook- 
ing, one  day  ventured  to  ask  Mrs.  Van  Metre 
whether  she  would  not  prepare  a  meal  or  two 


THE   UNCONSCIOUS   HEROINE.  69 

from  their  supplies.  She  readily  promised  to  do 
SO,  and  with  some  vegetables  from  her  own 
garden  cooked  for  them  a  few  meals  which  were 
long  remembered.  Thus  it  happened  that  upon 
four  or  five  occasions  half  a  dozen  officers  of 
the  Vermont  brigade  and  of  General  Getty's 
staff  broke  bread  at  Mrs.  Van  Metre's  table. 

With  this  sketch  in  mind  we  may  return  to 
the  deserted  officer.  Early  one  morning  Uncle 
Dick  Runner  came  to  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  with  his 
finger  on  his  lips  and  an  earnest  expression  of 
secrecy  on  his  face.  "  'Fore  de  Lord,  Missus 
Betty,"  he  whispered,  "a  Union  officer  is  a  dyin' 
in  dat  house  ober  dar  whar  de  Asburys  are.  I's 
jes'  come  from  dar  and  I  tink  he  is  dyin'  now." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  this  before,  Dick?" 
asked  his  mistress  with  some  severity. 

"Why — why — you  see,  'twas  dis  way,"  he 
stammered.  "Dem  Asburys  is  no  good,  Dey 
promis  de  kunnel's  friends  to  take  care  of  de 
kunnel.  Dey  get  pay  for  it.  I  promis  I'd  go 
see  when  he  wanted  something.  I  go  dere  tree, 
four  times;  dem  Asburys  won't  lef  me  in.  Dey 
say  it's  none  o'  my  business.  Dey  goin'  to  take 
care  ob  de  kunnel !  Early  dis  morning  I  steal  in 
de  house.  I  went  upstair.  De  poor  man  had 
no  water.  He  can't  move.  I  tink  dem  As- 
burys steal  his  food.  I  ran  got  some  water. 
Dat  room  was  an  awful  place.  I  clar  it  up  a 
little,  den  I  come  for  you." 


70  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"  Come  with  me,  Dick !''  exclaimed  the  energetic 
woman,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  literally  flying 
over  the  ground  to  the  house  where  Bedell 
lay.  Dick  followed  as  fast  as  his  ancient  legs 
would  carry  him.  She  walked  into  the  base- 
ment without  ceremony.  "Where  is  the  soldier 
you  are  suffering  to  die  in  solitude?"  she  de- 
manded of  the  miserable  couple,  who  were  still 
living  in  that  part  of  the  house. 

"Oh!  he's  a  Lincoln  hireling,"  said  the  female 
Asbury.  "We  don't  care  for  him.  We  haven't 
been  near  him.  Who  cares  if  he  does  die?  He's 
upstairs  somewhere !" 

"I  am  ashamed  that  you  are  a  woman!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Van  Metre.  "You  jDromised  to 
take  care  of  him  and  were  paid  for  it.  You  stole 
his  food  and  left  him  and  would  not  let  Dick  see 
him !  If  he  dies  you  are  murderers  and  ought  to 
be  hung!''  With  this  greeting  she  rushed  up  to 
the  room  where  Bedell  lay. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  saw  or  what  I  said," 
she  afterward  explained  to  the  writer.  "  It  was 
something  like  this.  He  lay  upon  the  floor  on 
a  straw  bed — his  eyes  sunken  and  hollow,  his 
great  wound  where  the  leg  seemed  taken  off  near 
the  hip  all  exposed,  the  matter  dripping  from  it. 
One  hand  was  wrapped  in  a  handkerchief;  with 
the  other  he  was  vainly  trying  to  cover  himself 
with  an  army  blanket. 

"I  was  overcome,  and  instead  of  going  to  work 


THE   UNCONSCIOUS   HEROINE,  71 

I  foolishly  asked  whether  I  could  do  anything 
for  him.  The  poor  fellow  burst  into  tears.  'I 
hope  you  will  excuse  me,'  he  said.  'I  am  very 
weak — I  have  lost  some  blood,  and  it  has  been 
lonely  here;  and  when  I  saw  you  I  thought  of 

my  wife — and — and ' 

"'Stop!'  I  said.  'Speaking  only  weakens  you. 
I  see  just  how  it  is!'  By  this  time  I  was  quite 
myself.  There  was  a  pail  of  fresh  water  which 
Dick  had  brought.  I  gave  him  a  cupful,  which 
he  drank,  and  a  second  and  a  third.  I  said  to 
Dick,  'Take  the  horse  and  go  for  Dr.  Osborne. 
Tell  him  I  want  him  just  as  quick  as  he  can 
come. '  Then  I  dropped  on  the  floor  by  the  poor 
fellow's  side,  and  with  a  handkerchief  dipped  in 
the  cool  water  washed  his  face,  his  hands,  his 
exposed  wound.  He  kept  crying  and  begging 
my  pardon  and  telling  how  weak  he  was.  'Cry !' 
I  said.  'I  would  cry  if  I  were  in  your  place.  Why 
shouldn't  you  cry?  But  you  must  remember  one 
thing — you  are  not  going  to  be  alone  any  more. 
I  shall  see  to  that. '  So  I  kept  talkingand  bath- 
ing and  he  crying  and  thanking  me  until  he 
seemed  quite  refreshed.  Then  I  said,  'I  do  not 
like  to  leave  you,  but  I  ought  to  have  some 
things  ready  when  the  doctor  comes.  Are  you 
willing  that  I  should  run  over  to  my  house  and 
get  them?'  He  said  yes  quite  cheerfully,  and  I 
was  glad  to  see  that  his  mind  was  as  clear  as 
mine. 


72  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"  I  went  to  my  house  very  quickly.  Some  intui- 
tion the  day  before  had  led  me  to  boil  a  chicken, 
and  I  set  about  making  a  dish  of  strong  broth 
before  the  doctor  came.  Before  it  was  quite 
ready  Dick  rode  up  to  my  door.  He  had  brought 
the  doctor  in  half  the  time  I  expected.  Dick 
had  been  sent  to  see  if  I  had  a  syringe ;  if  not  he 
was  to  go  to  Gaylord  for  the  doctor's.  I  gave 
him  mine  and  he  took  it  to  Dr.  Osborne." 

She  paused;  her  animated  face  became  very 
grave.  "I  quite  forgot  myself,"  she  said,  "in 
thinking  of  what  happened  almost  thirty  years 
ago.  You  must  get  the  rest  of  the  stor}^  from 
some  one  else.  For  me  to  tell  it  is  too  much 
like  blowing  my  own  trumj^et." 

"Madam,"  I  said,  "you  ought  not  to  decline 
to  give  me  the  rest  of  this  story.  I  intend  to 
give  it  to  the  world,  and  I  would  like  to  have  it 
from  your  own  lips." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  not  understand  me,  sir," 
she  said.  "  I  am  not  entitled  to  the  least  credit. 
Any  other  woman  would  have  done  what  I  did. 
Wh}^,  the  poor  man's  condition  was  horrible — 
horrible!"  she  exclaimed  with  a  shudder. 

"I  will  assent  to  anything — I  will  say  that 
black  is  white  if  you  wish ;  but  the  story — pray 
go  on  with  the  story.  You  were  at  the  point 
where  the  doctor  sent  for  the  syringe.  Go  on 
and  do  not  stop  again !" 

"  I  sent  Dick  with  the  syringe.     I  poured  the 


THE   UNCONSCIOUS   HEROINE,  73 

broth  into  a  bottle,  corked  it,  and  gave  it  to  my 
niece.  I  gathered  up  pieces  of  linen,  two  linen 
sheets,  a  blanket  and  a  thick  comforter,  and  we 
both  returned  to  the  room  where  the  poor  man 
lay.  Dr.  Osborne  had  already  removed  the  offi- 
cer's coat  and  vest.  He  waited  while  I  gave  him 
a  cup  of  the  chicken  broth.  It  delighted  me  to 
see  him  drink  it  and  call  for  more  until  he  had 
taken  the  whole.     It  seemed  to  put  life  in  him. 

"  Then  the  doctor  resumed  his  work,  with  the 
assistance  of  Dick  and  myself.  The  details  will 
not  interest  you.  We  got  him  fairly  well  bathed 
— his  wounds  cleansed  and  in  clean  bandages. 
The  thick  comforter  over  his  straw  tick  made  a 
softer  bed ;  we  placed  him  between  clean  sheets 
with  a  blanket  over  him,  and  before  we  had  quite 
finished  he  was  asleep." 

So  much  of  the  story  of  her  first  interview  with 
Bedell  after  he  was  wounded  I  had  from  Mrs.  Van 
Metre's  own  lips.  It  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  her  husband,  whom  I  then  saw  for  the 
first  time.  I  was  not  able  afterward  to  induce 
her  to  continue  the  relation.  She  could  not,  she 
said,  talk  about  herself.  I  continue  the  story  as 
I  gathered  it  from  other  sources. 

Bedell  continued  to  sleep  so  soundly  that  ordi- 
nary conversation  did  not  disturb  him.  Then  the 
doctor  called  Mrs.  Van  Metre  to  account. 

"You  are  a  fine  Confederate  woman,"  began 
the  doctor.     "  Here  is  a  Northern  invader,  a  Lin- 


74  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

coin  hireling,  who  has  come  here  to  rob  us  of  our 
property  and  to  conquer  us,  and  you  are  trying 
to  save  his  life!  Why  don't  you  do  your  duty 
and  leave  him  to  die?" 

"Because  a  good  Confederate — Dr.  Osborne — is 
just  as  much  interested  as  I  am  in  saving  his 
life ;  because  no  true  woman  could  do  otherwise 
than  as  I  am  doing.  Doctor,  let  us  not  have  any 
false  pretences  between  us.  When  I  first  came 
and  offered  to  help  him  he  tried  to  make  me  go 
away ;  his  condition  was  unfit  to  be  seen,  he  said. 
He  was  thankful,  he  said,  God  alone  knew  how 
thankful;  but  he  was  past  all  hope.  Would  I 
not  kindly  go  away  and  leave  him  to  die? 

"Look  at  him  now,"  she  said  as  she  turned 
her  earnest  face  toward  the  man  now  sleeping  so 
rectfully  who  had  been  so  hopeless  only  a  few 
hours  before.  "Are  you  not  repaid  already? 
Can  you  refuse  to  help  me  save  his  life?" 

"Mother  Eve  was  too  much  for  Adam  in  the 
first  discussion  in  the  garden  and  you  carry  too 
many  guns  for  a  country  doctor.  No !  no !  God 
bless  your  kindly  heart,  Betty  Van  Metre !  I  can 
refuse  you  nothing.  Friend  or  enemy,  we  will 
save  this  man  if  we  can!" 

"What  do  you  think  are  his  chances,  doctor?" 

"I  can  tell  much  better  when  he  wakes  and  I 
can  have  some  conversation  with  him.  I  think 
he  has  had  great  distress  of  mind.  But  the 
manner  in  which  he  yielded  to  your  influence 


THE   UNCONSCIOUS   HEROINE.  75 

and  his  present  sleep  are  very  hopeful.  He  may 
sleep  for  hours.  Let  Uncle  Dick  go  for  Ginny. 
She  is  an  excellent  nurse  and  will  watch  him  as 
well  as  you  can.  Then  you  go  home  and  we 
will  meet  here  at  four  o'clock  to-day." 

Ginny  was  sent  for  and  placed  in  charge. 
Uncle  Dick  decided  to  stay  with  her,  "to  keep 
dem  misabul  Asburys  outen  de  room."  Mrs. 
Van  Metre  returned  to  her  own  dwelling. 

Her  restricted  larder  could  still  provide  a 
roasted  chicken  and  corn  bread  made  with  her 
own  hands  for  her  patient's  dinner.  She  came 
before  the  hour.  The  wounded  man  was  awake, 
much  refreshed  by  his  sleep.  But  he  was  still 
very  weak,  and  when,  knowing  that  he  had  but 
one  hand,  she  seated  herself  on  the  floor  by  his 
bed,  carved  the  chicken,  and  gave  him  the  deli- 
cious and  tender  meat,  he  was  profuse  in  his 
apologies  for  his  nervousness,  which  still  found 
expression  in  his  moistened  eyes.  He  had  made 
an  excellent  dinner  when  the  doctor  arrived. 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  left  the  room  during  the  doc- 
tor's long  examination  of  the  patient.  At  the 
end  of  it  the  doctor  said  he  preferred  to  talk 
with  her  at  her  own  house.  Arrangements  were 
made  for  Ginny  to  stay  with  Bedell  during  the 
night,  and  the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Van  Metre  re- 
turned to  her  home. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  CONSULTATION — THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR — THE 
DECISION  OF  THE  HEROINE. 

"  I  HAVE  had  a  very  satisfactory  interview  with 
Lieutenant  Bedell, "  began  the  doctor.  "  His  mind 
is  clear  and  I  think  I  can  make  a  good  estimate 
of  his  chances." 

"  When  can  I  remove  him  to  my  own  house, 
where  he  can  have  proper  care?"  earnestly  asked 
Mrs.  Van  Metre. 

"My  dear  madam,"  replied  the  doctor,  "you 
anticipate  me.  I  do  not  know  that  that  time 
will  ever  come.  This  man  has  been  very  near  to 
death.  But  for  you  he  would  not  be  living  to- 
day. I  would  say  nothing  to  discourage  you, 
Heaven  knows,  but  I  have  studied  his  condition 
thoroughly.  I  suppose  yo.u  would  like  to  know 
just  what  I  think  his  chances  are?" 

"Most  certainly,  doctor.  But  he  seemed  so 
much  improved  to-night  that  I  hoped  he  was  out 
of  danger." 

"Very  far  from  that,  I  assure  you.  He  has  a 
splendid  constitution,  which  gives  me  all  the  hope 
I  have.     But  he  has  received  wounds  which  in 

76 


THE   CONSULTATION.  77 

the  majority  of  cases  would  have  been  fatal.  He 
has  been  subjected  to  fearful  surgical  operations 
— then  just  as  nature  v/as  asserting  herself  they 
tried  to  move  him  and  he  fainted.  They  carried 
him  back  to  that  room,  and  there  for  four  days 
he  has  lain  deserted,  the  fever  and  inflammation 
increasing  by  neglect  and  the  consciousness 
of  his  condition  wearing  his  life  away.  It  is  a 
miracle,  almost,  that  he  did  not  die.  Your  com- 
ing and  what  you  did  gave  him  hope  and  pro- 
duced a  powerful  reaction.  But  he  is  very  weak. 
The  suppuration  of  his  wounds,  now  unavoid- 
able, will  make  heavy  drafts  upon  his  vitality, 
which  I  tell  you  frankly  I  do  not  believe  he  can 
endure.  As  for  moving  him  now,  that  is  out  of 
the  question.  He  would  die  before  you  got  him 
out  of  the  house!" 

"Poor  fellow!  and  he  has  a  wife  and  children! 
And  how  brave  he  is !  and  how  grateful !  Must 
he  die?  Don't  give  him  up,  doctor!  Is  there 
nothing  we  can  do  to  save  him?" 

"My  dear  madam,  I  have  never  felt  our  pov- 
erty and  destitution  as  I  do  to-day.  Yes,  some- 
thing might  be  done  for  him.  If  we  had  stimu- 
lants and  medicines  to  brace  him  up  and  enable 
him  to  meet  the  drafts  which  his  wounds  will 
make  upon  his  system,  his  superb  constitution 
might  pull  him  through.  If  we  had  the  quinine 
and  whiskey  left  by  his  friends  and  which  have 
been  stolen  from  his  bed,  they  would  do  much." 


78  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

"  Cannot  we  buy  these  stimulants  with  money?" 

"  No.  The  only  stimulant  to  be  had  is  a  quart 
or  so  of  cider  brandy  from  an  illicit  still.  It 
burns  like  nitric  acid — it  is  not  as  good  for  our 
purposes  as  alcohol.  As  for  quinine,  I  have  not 
seen  an  ounce  of  it  in  a  year." 

"But,  doctor,  don't  tell  me  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  get  what  will  save  such  a  life !  There 
must  be  some  place  where  it  exists  and  some 
way  to  get  it!" 

"There  is  at  Harper's  Ferry  a  depot  of  the 
Sanitary  Commission,  where  there  is  an  abun- 
dance of  everything  we  want,  but  those  supplies 
are  for  the  Federal  army,  not  for  us  Confederates. 
They  are  as  safe  from  you  and  me  as  if  they 
were  locked  behind  bolts  and  bars  and  guarded 
by  an  angel  with  a  flaming  sword!" 

"  Do  you  say,  doctor,  that  if  you  had  those  med- 
icines from  Harper's  Ferry  you  believe  you  could 
save  the  life  of  that  wounded  officer?" 

"I  do  most  certainly  believe  I  could,"  said  the 
doctor  with  an  earnestness  that  was  very  grave. 

His  auditor  started  from  her  seat.  She  walked 
quickly  to  the  window  and  looked  at  the  setting 
sun.  Then  she  walked  back  and  stood  before 
the  medical  man  like  a  statue.  There  was  a 
ring  of  determination  in  her  voice  which  thrilled 
him. 

"Doctor,"  she  said,  "prepare  me  a  list  of  the 
things  you  need,  and  which  you  think  the  Sani- 


THE   DECISION   OF   THE   HEROINE.  79 

tary  Commission  can  furnish.  To-morrow  I  shall 
go  to  Harper's  Ferry  and  get  them!" 

The  doctor's  breath  was  almost  taken  away. 
After  a  little  he  managed  to  exclaim:  "My  dear 
woman,  what  are  you  thinking  about?  Have 
you  gone  crazy?  Don't  you  know  that  Harper's 
Ferry  is  in  the  hands  of  our  enemies?  You 
could  not  get  within  their  lines !  If  you  could, 
they  would  arrest  and  probably  hang  you  as  a 
spy.  Positively  it  is  the  most  reckless  prop- 
osition I  ever  heard  in  my  life.  I  cannot  let 
you  do  it!"'' 

"But  I  must  do  it,  doctor!  There  is  no  one 
else  to  go.  We  must  have  the  medicines  and  I 
have  no  choice." 

"Why  do  you  take  so  much  interest  in  this 
Northern  man  who  has  been  wounded  in  battle 
by  our  own  friends?" 

"I  am  not  surprised  that  you  ask,  and  I  do  not 
know  that  I  can  answer  your  question  to  your 
satisfaction  or,  indeed,  to  my  own.  He  is  a 
wounded,  suffering  man,  with  a  home  far  away, 
and  in  it  are  a  wife  and  children.  If  any  woman 
knowing  that  and  seeing  him  as  I  have  seen  him 
could  do  otherwise  than  I  have  done,  she  is  not 
such  a  woman  as  I  am.  Then  weeks  ago  his 
general  placed  guards  upon  and  protected  my 
home.  From  all  his  brother-officers  myself  and 
my  little  niece  have  received  the  most  courte- 
ous and  considerate  treatment.     This  officer  and 


W  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

others  have  eaten  at  my  table.  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  I  should  be  doing  a  good  deed  if 
I  could  help  save  such  a  noble  man ! 

"But  my  strongest  reason  is  yet  to  be  given. 
You  may  laugh  at  me  and  think  me  superstitious 
if  you  like.  But  when  Dick  Eunner  first  told 
me  that  a  Union  officer  was  dying  in  that  house, 
the  thought  possessed  me  that  if  I  could  help 
that  man,  some  Northern  woman  might  help  my 
husband.  This  notion,  if  you  will  call  it  such, 
absolutely  controls  me.  When  I  go  forward 
something  tells  me  that  I  am  doing  right.  When 
I  hold  back  and  ask  why  I  should  take  any 
trouble  for  him,  I  can  almost  hear  a  voice  say- 
ing, '  Betty  Van  Metre,  as  you  deal  with  that  suf- 
fering man  so  shall  your  husband  be  dealt  with. 
Nurse  him,  cure  him,  do  all  in  your  power  for 
him,  if  you  wish  ever  again  to  see  your  hus- 
band!' I  feel,  I  know  that  in  some  way  the 
fate  of  my  husband  is  bound  up  with  that  of 
this  Union  officer ! 

"Am  I  not  doing  right,  doctor?  Here  I  am 
alone,  inexperienced,  and  not  yet  twenty  years 
old.  If  I  am  doing  wrong  you,  who  have  had 
experience,  ought  to  advise  me.  I  am  acting  ac- 
cording to  my  lights." 

"Mrs.  Van  Metre,  you  have  answered  me.  I 
do  solemnly  believe  you  are  acting  the  part  of  a 
true  woman.  If  you  were  my  daughter  I  would 
tell  you  so.     But  I  cannot  advise  you  to  go  to 


THE   DECISION   OP   THE   HEROINE.  81 

Harper's  Ferry.  The  turnpike  is  beset  with 
tramps  and  guerillas.  The  prospect  of  success  is 
too  remote,  and  I  believe  you  will  fail." 

"  I  might  succeed  where  a  man  would  fail,  I 
shall  go  to-morrow  morning,  so  you  had  better 
make  all  your  preparations  and  give  me  full 
directions!  " 

"  I  must  at  least  insist  on  your  postponing  it 
another  day.  I  ought  to  consider  you  an  obsti- 
nate, wilful  child.  You  will  be  insulted,  morti- 
fied, probably  imprisoned,  and  you  will  fail.  Yet 
I  shall  probably  let  you  go,  the  man  will  die,  and 
I  shall  never  see  you  again!" 

"You  are  not  an  encouraging  adviser,  doctor. 
But  I  am  in  the  hands  of  the  Almighty.  I  must 
trust  him  and  do  what  seems  to  be  necessary. 
It  will  take  Peter  a  day  to  repair  the  old  wagon, 
so  we  have  that  time  for  preparation." 

She  again  visited  her  patient  and  prepared  him 
for  the  night.  He  was  cheerful,  thankful,  but 
her  heart  sank  when  she  found  how  little  strength 
he  had.  She  arranged  with  the  three  colored 
servants  to  see  that  he  was  not  again  left  alone. 

The  next  was  a  busy  day.  From  her  own 
nearly  exhausted  larder,  the  box  of  crackers, 
and  the  milk  of  a  neighbor's  cow  she  provided 
his  food  for  the  next  day.  He  saw  that  prepara- 
tions were  being  made  for  something  and  he 
wished  to  know  what.  She  made  some  excuse, 
which  satisfied  him. 
6 


82  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

Successive  Confederate  and  Union  invasions  of 
the  valley  had  swept  from  her  farm  every  horse 
save  one — an  old  animal,  spavined,  foundered, 
worthless  for  almost  every  purpose.  A  long-dis- 
used wagon  had  also  been  left  because  it  would 
scarcely  hold  together  to  be  moved  away.  Uncle 
Peter,  who  was  a  skilful  cobbler  of  wheeled  vehi- 
cles as  well  as  shoes,  was  directed  out  of  the  re- 
mains to  reconstruct  a  wagon  which  should  with- 
stand the  hard  usage  of  a  journey  to  Harper's 
Ferry  and  back,  a  distance  of  more  than  forty 
miles,  over  roads  which  had  not  been  repaired 
since  the  beginning  of  the  war  and  which  had 
been  many  times  furrowed  by  army  wagons 
and  artillery.  This  work  occupied  him  for  the 
day. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  called  in  the  morning  his 
patient  insisted  upon  being  informed  of  the  prepa- 
rations going  on  and  what  they  signified.  "I 
will  tell  you,"  said  the  doctor,  "and  then  I  must 
rely  upon  your  discretion.  You  must  promise 
not  to  attempt  to  dissuade  Mrs.  Van  Metre  from 
what  she  intends  to  do.  She  insists  upon  making 
an  attempt  to  procure  from  Harper's  Ferry  the 
stimulants  which  you  must  have  if  you  are  to 
recover. 

"I  think  the  journey  a  most  dangerous  one. 
I  do  not  think  she  will  be  allowed  to  enter  the 
town.  If  she  gets  to  the  Sanitary  depot  I  do  not 
believe  she  will  be  given  the  articles  we  need. 


THE   DECISION   OF   THE   HEROINE,  83 

But  she  is  so  determined  tiiat  I  dare  not  take  the 
responsibihty  of  preventing  her,  nor  should  you. 
On  the  contrary,  I  think  we  should  encourage  and 
assist  her." 

Bedell  assented;  in  fact,  he  was  almost  too 
feeble  to  resist.  In  the  evening  Mrs.  Van  Metre 
took  the  control  of  the  sick-room.  Ginny,  the 
colored  nurse,  was  to  remain  with  the  officer, 
and  in  her  possession  was  placed  the  most  nour- 
ishing food  which  Mrs.  Van  Metre's  stores  could 
supply.  Then  they  bathed  the  hands,  face,  and 
much  of  the  body  of  the  wounded  man,  with  such 
a  comforting  effect  that  he  went  to  sleep  under 
their  hands. 

Our  heroine  very  much  wanted  something 
from  Bedell  which  would  serve  her  for  creden- 
tials, otherwise  the  only  proof  that  he  was  alive 
and  that  she  was  acting  for  him  was  her  own 
word.  But  he  was  too  weak  to  write  or  even 
to  give  her  instructions  which  would  be  useful. 
The  army  had  moved  and  he  did  not  know  that 
he  had  an  acquaintance  in  the  town. 

Under  these  circumstances  she  felt  at  liberty 
to  examine  Bedell's  clothing  to  see  whether  she 
could  not  find  something  that  would  prove  *his 
identity.  In  one  of  the  pockets  of  his  coat  she 
found  a  letter ;  the  stamp  of  the  War  Office  was 
upon  the  envelope.  She  removed  the  letter  from 
the  envelope  and  found  that  its  folds  adhered 
together.     It  had  been  saturated  by  his  blood. 


84  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE, 

Carefully  separating  one  of  these  folds,  she  saw 
that  the  letter  was  the  official  announcement  of 
his  last  promotion,  directed  with  his  full  name. 
She  thrust  it  into  her  bosom,  gave  to  Ginny  her 
last  directions,  breathed  a  prayer  for  the  safety 
of  her  patient,  and  about  midnight  returned  to 
her  own  home. 


CHAPTEE   X. 

THE   FIRST   EXPEDITION   TO   HARPER'S   FERRY. 

Early  the  next  morning  Mistress  Betty  took 
her  seat  in  the  rickety  vehicle  and  slowly  started 
her  stiffened  Eosinante  on  his  twenty-mile  jour- 
ney to  Harper's  Ferry  and  return.  It  could 
not  be  said  that  she  handled  the  ribbons  grace- 
fully, for  in  her  case  the  cord  of  a  dismantled 
bedstead  replaced  the  reins.  She  encountered 
parties  of  camp-followers  and  tramps,  but  none 
of  them  could  discover  any  reward  for  robbery  in 
her  empty  conveyance.  The  road  was  rough  and 
her  progress  slow.  It  was  seven  long  hours 
after  she  started  before  she  reached  the  pickets 
of  the  Union  post. 

To  the  young  officer  in  command  of  the  picket 
she  told  the  plain  truth.  She  gave  her  true 
name — said  she  lived  in  Berryville,  that  her 
husband  and  brothers  were  in  the  Confederate 
army,  that  she  was  a  Southern  woman.  She 
said  that  near  her  home  in  Berryville,  in  a  vacant 
house,  there  was  an  officer  of  the  Union  army 
desperately  wounded  and  about  to  die  for  want 
of    nourishing  food   and  stimulating    remedies. 

85 


86  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

She  gave  his  name  and  regiment.  She  had  come, 
she  said,  to  procure  these  necessaries  from  the 
Sanitary  Commission.  She  had  no  other  errand. 
She  asked  to  be  taken  before  the  general  in  com- 
mand of  the  post  without  delay,  that  she  might 
accomplish  her  errand  and  return. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  smuggling  into  the 
Confederacy  was  at  its  height.  The  notorious 
Belle  Boyd  had  been  detected  and  imprisoned,  and 
many  other  agents  and  spies  had  not  only  carried 
medicines  and  mails,  but  the  Union  plans  to  the 
Southern  leaders.  These  operations  had  been 
the  cause  of  the  loss  of  many  lives  and  much 
Union  property.  The  greatest  strictness  now 
prevailed.  No  one  was  permitted  to  pass  the 
lines  without  orders  from  the  general  command- 
ing the  army  in  that  military  department. 

The  officer  of  the  picket  feared  that  he  had  one 
of  these  spies  in  petticoats  on  his  hands,  and  yet, 
being  a  gentleman,  he  could  not  withhold  his 
confidence  from  that  frank,  open  face  or  order  a 
search  of  her  person,  to  which  she  volunteered 
to  submit.  It  was  the  hour  for  the  relief  of  his 
guard,  and  riding  by  her  side  he  escorted  the 
singular  conveyance  and  its  driver  to  the  quar- 
ters of  General  Stevenson,  to  whom,  while  she 
waited  without,  the  young  officer  told  her  story. 
It  elicited  many  oh's  and  ah's  and  other  ex- 
pressions of  incredulity  from  the  experienced 
veteran. 


FIRST   EXPEDITION   TO   HARPER'S   FERRY.         87 

Then  the  driver  was  called  into  the  general's 
presence  and  sharply  questioned.  She  repeated 
her  story.  She  had  no  other,  and  there  was  not 
a  fact  or  circumstance  in  it  upon  which  the  gen- 
eral could  hang  the  shadow  of  a  suspicion. 

Her  bearing  was  so  unassuming,  her  story  so 
absolutely  unexceptionable,  that  the  general  was 
annoyed  because  he  could  not  take  exception  to 
either.  He  took  refuge  in  fuming  and  fault-find- 
ing. "Why  can't  you  women  stay  at  home  and 
attend  to  your  own  affairs  ?"  he  growled.  "  I  would 
have  much  preferred  to  do  so,"  she  said,  "but  if 
I  had  your  officer  would  surely  have  died," 
"  There  it  is  again !"  he  said.  "  They  always  have 
some  reason  on  their  lips  that  the  devil  himself 
can't  answer.  Now  if  this  was  a  man  I'd  know 
what  to  do  with  him.  Probably  I  would  hang 
him  as  a  spy !  It  is  easier  to  deal  with  fifty  men 
than  one  soft-spoken  woman.  Here  you,  madam! 
Don't  you  know  that  this  yarn  of  yours  is  the 
d — dest  improbable  story  ever  invented?  Excuse 
me  for  swearing  in  the  presence  of  a  lady,  for 
you  look  like  a  lady  and  d — n  me  if  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  are  a  lady.  But  why  didn't  3'ou  bring 
a  letter  from  the  officer  when  you  were  going  on 
such  a  dangerous  errand  where  you  would 
inevitably  risk  your  life?" 

"The  lieutenant  was  too  feeble  to  write,  sir, 
and  his  right  hand  is  all  shot  to  pieces.  He 
would  have  made  the  effort  if  I  had  asked  him. 


88  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

but  I  knew  he  could  not  write,  and  the  exertion 
would  have  made  him  weaker!" 

"  But  a  woman  as  bright  as  you  are  might 
have  brought  some  credentials — a  button  from 
his  coat  or  something  from  his  pocket.  How 
can  I  take  your  unconfirmed  story?" 

"  While  he  was  asleep,  sir,  I  confess  I  did  ex- 
amine his  pockets,  and  in  one  of  them  I  found 
this."  Dexterously  opening  a  seam  in  her  skirt, 
she  extracted  from  it  the  blood-stained  letter, 
which  she  handed  to  the  general,  who  passed  it  to 
a  member  of  his  staff  and  directed  him  to  read  it. 
The  officer  removed  the  letter  from  its  envelope 
without  glancing  at  the  direction.  While  sep- 
arating the  adhering  folds  he  saw  its  beginning. 

"  Bedell !  Bedell !"  exclaimed  the  officer.  "  How 
came  you  by  this,  madam?  Bedell  was  in  our 
brigade.  He  was  mortally  wounded  and  died 
more  than  a  week  ago.  We  had  to  leave  him, 
poor  fellow,  and  it  was  a  shame  that  we  did 
so.  I  know  he  is  dead,  for  the  nurse  we  left  with 
him  came  into  camp  the  next  day  and  reported 
that  he  died  during  the  night.  This  letter  must 
have  been  taken  from  his  body." 

"  Lieutenant  Bedell  was  not  dead  this  morning 
at  sunrise,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  very 
tender  as  she  continued :  "  He  would  have  been 
in  my  house,  but  he  was  too  weak  to  be  moved. 
I  left  him  in  a  deserted  house  near  mine  in  charge 
of  a  faithful  old  colored  couple.     His  hand  is  shot 


FIRST   EXPEDITION   TO   HARPER's   FERRY.         89 

and  useless ;  he  has  not  strength  to  hold  a  pen. 
He  will  die  if  I  do  not  get  what  I  came  for.  I  fear 
he  will  die  before  I  get  home.  My  own  doctor 
has  said  so.  That  is  why  I  came,  gentlemen," 
she  continued.  "  Pray  think  of  one  of  your  wives 
or  daughters  on  my  errand,  and  for  their  sakes 
give  me  what  I  came  for  and  let  me  go.  I  do 
not  ask  for  myself,  but  for  your  brother-officer, 
now  very  near  his  end.  I  am  trying  to  save 
him  for  his  own  wife  and  children.  I  am  afraid 
if  I  am  much  longer  delayed  I  shall  not  find  him 
alive  when  I  go  home." 

Her  lips  and  her  voice  were  tremulous  as  she 
closed  her  pathetic  appeal.  No  one  answered 
her.  There  were  eyes  in  the  group  that  were 
not  dry,  and  the  veteran  general  seemed  to  be 
trying  to  divert  attention  from  his  own  emotions 
by  vehemently  blowing  his  nose.  Just  then,  un- 
announced, another  officer  entered  the  room.  "  I 
hear  there  is  a  lady  here  whom  I  want  to  see," 
he  exclaimed,  and  rushing  forward  he  strode 
up  to  the  timid  woman  and  warmly  grasped 
both  her  hands.  "God  bless  you,  Mrs.  Van 
Metre!"  he  exclaimed.  "Why  are  you  here 
and  what  can  this  camp  do  for  you?"  Then  she 
recognized  in  his  cordial  greeting  and  earnest 
look  the  voice  and  face  of  one  of  the  officers  who 
had  sat  at  her  table  and  partaken  of  the  luxuries 
of  her  cookery.  "Tell  me,"  he  repeated,  "what 
any  of  us  can  do  for  you." 


90  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"You  can  do  me  a  very  great  favor  if  you  can 
convince  these  gentlemen  that  I  am  telling  the 
truth,"  she  said.  "I  am  not  here  for  myself, 
but  for  one  of  your  brother-officers,  Lieutenant 
Bedell." 

" Poor  Bedell !"  he  responded.  "How  shame- 
ful it  was  that  we  left  him  to  die.  I  should  have 
stayed  with  him  at  any  risk,  although  he  insisted 
that  we  should  leave  him  for  our  duties  with 
the  army.  But  he  did  not  suffer  long.  The 
nurse  whom  we  left  with  him  reported  that  he  died 
the  next  morning.  But  pray  what  can  be  done 
for  him  now?" 

"Lieutenant  Bedell  is  not  dead,  as  I  have  as- 
sured these  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Metre. 
"We  still  hope,  Dr.  Osborne  and  myself,  that  we 
can  save  him,  if  I  can  have  the  things  for  which 
I  have  come." 

"You  can  have  anything  that  this  camp  can 
furnish  for  such  a  purpose,  but  the  news  is  too 
good.  Bedell  alive !  I  could  as  readily  have  be- 
lieved he  was  raised  from  the  dead,"  warmly 
responded  the  officer.  "But  what  do  you  want? 
What  have  you  come  for?  You  shall  have  it  at 
once!" 

The  general  here  interposed,  and  turning  to  the 
messenger  asked: 

"Are  you  a  Union  woman?" 

"lam  not,"  she  replied.  "I  am  a  Southern 
woman  to  the  last  drop  of  my  blood.     My  hus- 


FIRST   EXPEDITION   TO   HARPER'S   FERRY.         91 

band  and  brothers  are  Confederate  soldiers  and 
my  husband  is  now  in  the  hands  of  your  people 
a  prisoner  of  war.  I  hope  and  pray  that  the 
South  may  yet  be  victorious  and  your  Northern 
army  defeated." 

"  Eebel  or  not,  you  are  a  brave  and  I  believe 
you  are  a  good,  true  woman !"  said  the  general. 
"But  about  giving  you  supplies  which  may  be 
used  to  cure  some  sick  Confederate !  we  shall  have 
to  think  about  that.  What  shall  we  do  with  her, 
gentlemen?  Her  conduct  violates  all  the  rules 
of  war.  I  suppose  it  is  my  duty  to  arrest  and 
imprison  her  as  a  spy.  I  wish  she  had  not  come. 
I  fear  she  will  prove  an  elephant  on  our  hands. 
How  we  should  be  laughed  at  if  we  gave  her 
what  she  wants  and  the  supplies  went  straight 
to  Mosby's  camp!  Again  I  ask,  what  shall  we 
do  with  her?" 

"  I  would  like  to  ask  the  lady  why  she  takes 
so  much  interest  in  the  fate  of  an  enemy?"  asked 
a  young  officer. 

"Dr.  Osborne,  my  physician,  asked  me  that 
question  and  I  have  asked  it  of  myself.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  can  give  a  satisfactory  answer. 
Lieutenant  Bedell  and  his  brother-officers  placed 
guards  over  my  little  property — they  have  all 
treated  me  with  the  courtesy  of  gentlemen.  My 
husband  is  a  prisoner.  I  have  thought  that  if  I 
could  save  the  life  of  this  man  for  his  wife  and 
family,  the  Lord  might  put  it  into  the  heart  of 


92  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

some  Northern  woman  to  be  equally  kind  and 
helpful  to  my  husband.  If  these  suggestions  do 
not  answer  you,  then  I  say  that  I  suppose  it  is 
because  I  am  a  woman  and  have  a  woman's 
heart,  and  I  cannot — Heaven  knows  I  cannot — 
see  such  a  brave  man  suffer  and  die  without 
doing  all  that  I  can  to  save  him.  If  these  rea- 
sons are  not  sufficient  I  am  sorry — I  can  only  say 
that  I  have  no  other." 

"If  she  is  not  a  trustworthy  woman  there  never 
was  one,"  said  the  officer  who  had  previously 
made  her  acquaintance.  "  I  would  believe  her  as 
I  would  my  mother.  Then  are  we  not  bound  to 
take  some  risk  for  Bedell  ?  I  vote  for  furnishing 
her  with  everything  she  wants,  and  I  am  ready 
to  take  the  whole  risk!" 

"I  think,  gentlemen,  we  are  all  agreed,"  said 
the  general  with  the  caution  of  an  army  officer. 
"  We  believe  what  this  lady  says.  She  is  work- 
ing for  the  life  of  one  of  our  brother-officers. 
We  will  furnish  her  with  all  the  materials  and 
facilities  which  will  promote  her  good  vork.  If 
any  one  entertains  a  different  opinion,  now  is  his 
time  to  express  it." 

There  was  no  dissension.  All  set  about  con- 
tributing to  the  work.  Every  jDossible  attention 
was  shown  to  Mrs.  Van  Metre.  Even  the  old 
horse  was  refreshed  with  such  a  feed  as  he  had 
not  enjoyed  since  the  war  began. 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  gave  them  the  memorandum 


FIRST   EXPEDITION   TO   HARPER'S   FERRY.         93 

prepared  by  Dr.  Osborne  of  Bedell's  real  necessi- 
ties. To  this  the  surgeons  and  agents  of  the  Com- 
mission made  liberal  additions.  The  Sanitary  and 
Christian  Commissions,  the  stores  and  private  sup- 
plies of  the  officers  were  drawn  upon,  and  the  load 
as  made  up  severely  taxed  the  strength  and  ca- 
pacity of  the  vehicle.  The  driver  decided  that  it 
would  be  unsafe  to  undertake  the  transportation  of 
such  a  load  in  the  day-time  through  a  region  so 
destitute,  infested  by  so  many  bands  of  roving  rob- 
bers, all  following  their  merciless  instincts.  The 
supplies  were  closely  packed  in  boxes  and  the  re- 
turn postponed  until  evening,  notwithstanding 
one  of  the  officers  very  significantly  suggested 
that  she  would  run  no  risk  of  attack  on  her 
return. 

At  nightfall  she  left  the  camp  followed  by  the 
God-speed  of  officers  and  men,  her  heart  as  full 
of  gratitude  as  her  wagon  was  with  medicines 
and  necessaries.  The  old  horse  appeared  to  have 
renewed  his  youth  and  activity.  He  picked  his 
way  cautiously  over  the  rough  places,  and  wher- 
ever he  came  to  a  smoother  road,  without  a  word 
or  touch  of  the  whip  he  bowled  along  at  a  pace 
of  six  or  seven  miles  an  hour. 

Her  heart  sank  once  on  the  return  journey. 
She  was  within  two  miles  of  her  home  when  she 
heard  the  sound  of  horses  galloping  on  the  road 
behind  her.  The  old  horse  increased  his  paces, 
but  she  knew  she  was  being  rapidly  overtaken. 


94  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

They  must  be  her  pursuers,  she  thought — they 
were  guerillas  or  robbers.  It  was  too  much  that 
after  all  her  success  she  should  lose  her  supplies 
when  so  near  her  home — that  her  good  fortune 
should  desert  her  and  her  enterprise  come  to 
naught ! 

No!  no!  Thank  Heaven!  Separating  into  two 
lines,  the  party  swept  past  her.  The  leader  spoke. 
She  recognized  the  voice  of  her  acquaintance  who 
had  been  so  kind  to  her  during  the  day.  It  was 
expressed  in  different  language,  but  it  filled  her 
agitated  breast  with  the  same  feeling  which  gave 
strength  to  the  arms  and  firmness  to  the  hearts 
of  the  disciples  when,  toiling  at  the  oars,  they 
heard  through  storm  and  tempest  the  cheering 
message,  "It  is  I,  be  not  afraid!"  The  voice 
of  this  leader  said,  "No  guerillas — no  robbers 
will  harm  you.  We  are  your  escort  to  Berry- 
ville!" 

Her  escort  waited  at  the  junction  of  the  road 
leading  to  her  home  with  the  turnpike,  and 
watched  her  until  she  reached  her  own  door.  As 
she  drove  past  them  they  gave  her  a  respectful 
fusillade  of  good  wishes  and  kind  messages  to 
her  patient.  She  found  the  doctor  waiting  for 
her,  much  troubled  by  the  delay  of  her  return. 
The  lieutenant  was  sleeping  under  the  watchful 
eye  of  Ginny,  but  he  had  been  growing  weaker 
during  the  day.  The  abundant  load  of  supplies 
was  transferred  to  Mrs.  Van  Metre's  store-room, 


FIRST   EXPEDITION   TO   HARPER'S   FERRY.         95 

where  it  was  safe  under  lock  and  key.  But  the 
doctor  would  not  defer  the  administration  of  a 
remedy  from  which  he  expected  immediate  re- 
sults. He  prepared  it,  and  with  the  fortunate 
messenger  went  to  the  patient's  bedside,  aroused 
and  administered  it  to  him. 


-      CHAPTER   XL 

THE  PECULIARITIES  OF  THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR — 
THE  REMOVAL  AND  CONCEALMENT  UNDER  DIF- 
FICULTIES  OF    A   STALWART   ENEMY. 

Upon  several  occasions  in  my  life  it  has  hap- 
pened to  me  to  be  brought  into  contact  with  the 
country  doctor.  I  have  met  him  socially  and 
professionally,  and  in  one  instance  he  has  been 
closely  connected  with  my  own  family.  I  have 
always  found  him  exhibiting  the  same  specific 
characters.  As  an  interesting  species  of  our 
race,  he  deserves  some  description. 

He  is,  I  believe,  the  most  charitable  and  kind- 
hearted  expression  of  our  humanity.  His  life  is 
laborious — he  belongs  to  the  most  arduous  and 
difficult  of  what  are  known  as  the  learned  profes- 
sions. He  deals  with  the  complex  mechanism  of 
life,  which  is  never  at  rest,  is  in  constant  opera- 
tion, and  through  our  negligence  of  its  demands, 
exposed  to  disarrangement  and  injury.  Unless 
he  understands  all  its  delicate  functions  he  is 
useless,  and  the  knowledge  of  these  functions  is 
only  to  be  acquired  by  long  and  patient  study. 
He  must  be  able  to  detect  the  diseased  parts,  not 

96 


PECULIARITIES   OF   THE   COUNTRY   DOCTOR.       97 

by  simple  inspection,  as  in  the  case  of  other  ma- 
chinery, but  by  symptoms,  deductions,  or  by 
what  is  called  diagnosis,  and  when  he  has  located 
the  defect  he  must  know  how  it  can  be  rej^aired. 
To  practise  at  all  and  to  protect  himself  against 
the  perils  of  malpractice,  he  must  attain  to  a 
measure  of  skill  only  to  be  acquired  b}^  a  long  and 
thorough  course  of  training. 

When  he  has  acquired  the  knowledge  necessary 
to  his  being  admitted  to  his  profession,  he  cannot, 
like  the  ordinary  mechanic,  sit  in  his  shojD  and 
have  his  work  brought  to  him  to  be  done  at  his 
leisure,  where  his  tools  are  ready  to  his  hand. 
No.  Nature  cannot  wait — pain,  her  messenger, 
is  imperative.  The  country  doctor  must  be  ready 
to  answer  her  call  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night.  More  often  than  otherwise  he  will  be 
aroused  from  his  refreshing  sleep  at  midnight — he 
will  have  to  harness  his  own  horse  and  in  storm 
and  darkness  make  his  way  over  hill  and  moun- 
tain to  seme  distant  cottage  where  the  patient  lies 
impatiently  awaiting  his  coming. 

Is  he  always  adequately  rewarded?  Does  he 
stipulate  for  and  secure  his  fee  in  advance?  No! 
In  the  majority  of  cases  he  performs  his  service 
upon  a  credit  which  will  only  mature  in  another 
world.  It  is  none  the  less  valuable  on  that 
account,  for  he  never  stops  to  inquire  whether 
the  patient  is  able  to  pay.  The  city  practitioner 
called  from  his  sleep  in  the  night  by  a  stranger 


98  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

may  coolly  refer  the  messenger  to  his  young  part- 
ner at  some  number  a  dozen  blocks  away  and 
shut  the  door  in  his  face.  The  country  doctor  is 
never  guilty  of  such  unfeeling  incivility.  He 
answers  the  call  in  person.  Wherefore  it  is  that 
throughout  my  professional  life  I  have  thought 
and  said  of  the  country  doctor,  "  He  is  the  true 
Samaritan,  an  honor  to  his  profession  and  to 
mankind." 

As  Adam  Smith  once  wrote  of  humanity,  these 
country  doctors  are  very  much  alike — very  uni- 
form. Why  did  not  Dr.  Osborne,  when  he  was 
sent  for  in  great  haste  by  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  stop 
and  inquire  whether  the  patient  was  not  "a  Lin- 
coln hireling"?  He  was  a  Confederate,  was  Dr. 
Osborne.  Politically,  he  was  more  interested  in 
killing  than  in  curing  the  officers  of  the  Northern 
army.  Why  at  least  did  he  not  stop  and  ascer- 
tain whether  the  patient  would  promise  to  com- 
pensate him  if  he  recovered  and  should  ever 
have  the  pecuniary  ability  to  do  so?  Why  did 
he  come  at  the  first  summons,  take  a  deep  inter- 
est in  the  case,  repeat  his  visits  from  day  to  day, 
and  never  omit  them  until  Bedell  had  no  further 
need  of  him,  without  so  much  as  one  word  on  the 
subject  of  his  fees?  It  was  because  he  was  a 
country  doctor ! 

Dr.  Osborne  is  dead.  The  writer  has  recently 
been  among  the  people  in  the  region  where  he 
lived  and  died.     There  is  no  question  about  the 


PECULIARITIES   OF   THE   COUNTRY   DOCTOR.        99 

esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by  that  community. 
When  its  members  answered  the  writer's  in- 
quiries about  him  their  voices  were  low,  their 
accents  affectionate,  their  testimony  unanimous 
that  he  was  a  good  man. 

Although  the  exigencies  of  war  had  for  a  long 
time  deprived  his  patients  of  their  benefits.  Dr. 
Osborne  thoroughly  understood  the  practical  use 
of  all  modern  surgical  instruments  and  of  all  the 
medical  remedies  described  in  the  Pharmacopoeia. 
He  was  simply  amazed  at  the  success  of  Mrs.  Van 
Metre's  expedition.  The  agents  of  the  Sanitary 
and  Christian  Commissions  had  not  only  furnished 
all  the  articles  mentioned  in  his  written  memo- 
randum, but  having  obtained  from  the  faithful 
messenger  a  description  of  Bedell's  condition,  they 
had  added  such  things  as  they  thought  might 
prove  useful  in  his  case.  The  doctor  left  the 
coffee  and  tea,  the  canned  meats,  vegetables,  and 
other  food  suf)plies  to  the  administration  of  Mrs. 
Van  Metre.  Those  which  belonged  to  his  own 
profession  he  displayed  upon  one  of  her  tables. 
First  of  all,  from  the  requisite  materials  he  com- 
pounded the  strengthening  and  stimulating  mix- 
ture which  was  to  be  administered  every  two 
hours.  The  draught  of  the  previous  evening  had 
arrested  the  weakening  process,  and  the  first  ap- 
plication in  the  morning  appeared  to  turn  the 
face  of  his  patient  in  the  direction  of  recovery. 
Then   how  the  good  doctor  did  revel  in  the 


100  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

pleasures  of  his  profession  and  thank  God  for  the 
hberality  of  the  Sanitary  Commission.  For  this 
mountaineer  was  a  man  of  experience  and  learn- 
ing, and  he  knew  the  uses  of  all  the  medicines 
and  instruments,  many  of  which  he  had  seldom 
seen  during  the  recent  years  of  war.  With  a 
touch  of  affection  he  proceeded  to  remove  the 
coverings  and  arrange  the  medicines  in  order. 
His  heart  leaped  in  his  bosom  when  he  came  to 
the  instruments.  For  his  brother-surgeons  had 
sent  him  a  very  complete  assortment  of  the  most 
modern  and  approved  manufactures,  with  a  grate- 
ful note  requesting  his  acceptance  of  them  after 
his  patient  had  been  cured.  He  laid  them  out, 
one  by  one,  upon  the  table,  surveyed  and  rejoiced 
over  them,  more  pleased  than  a  queen  by  the 
presentation  of  a  casket  of  jewels. 

As  soon  as  the  patient  had  begun  to  feel  the 
strengthening  effects  of  the  new  remedies,  he 
was  visited  by  the  doctor,  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  and  the 
colored  couple,  Dick  and  Ginny.  They  trespassed 
upon  the  Asburys'  fire  enough  to  heat  a  quan- 
tity of  water.  The  old  dressings  of  his  wounds 
were  softened,  removed,  and  committed  to  the 
flames,  and  new,  clean  bandages  were  applied. 
His  entire  body  was  thoroughly  bathed.  Uncle 
Dick  was  a  very  fair  barber.  He  trimmed  the 
patient's  hair  and  whiskers  and  even  attempted  a 
moderate  shampoo.  Clean  linen  was  put  upon 
him,  the  cot  bedstead  and  mattress  from  the  Ferry 


REMOVAL  AND  CONCEALMENT.        101 

were  set  up,  and  the  patient  was  placed  between 
clean  sheets  upon  them.  Even  the  naked  room  was 
made  a  little  more  attractive  and  less  desolate. 

Bedell  bore  the  fatigue  of  this  change  fairly 
well,  and  the  doctor  left  him  with  the  hope  that 
if  no  set-back  occurred  his  removal  might  be  at- 
tempted within  the  next  three  or  four  da3's. 

The  house  where  the  officer  lay  was  a  good 
third  of  a  mile  from  the  Van  Metre  homestead, 
where  Peter  Dennis  and  near  which  Dick  and 
Ginny  lived.  It  was  not  safe  to  leave  the  lieu- 
tenant alone.  "Dem  Asburys,"  as  Uncle  Dick 
persisted  in  calling  them,  were  imsafe  neighbors, 
almost  as  dangerous  as  the  guerillas  and  camp- 
followers.  Mrs.  Van  Metre  did  not  wish  to  leave 
her  little  niece  alone  in  the  house,  and  although 
the  colored  neighbors  would  stay  with  the 
wounded  man  during  the  night,  Mrs.  Van  Metre 
experienced  considerable  difficulty  in  arranging 
matters  during  the  day.  She  finally  compromised 
by  going  to  her  patient  once  in  three  hours, 
keeping  up  his  courage  by  a  few  minutes  of  cheer- 
ful conversation,  and  then  returning  home. 

But  this  plan  involved  much  labor  and  left 
both  places  exposed  during  her  temporary  ab- 
sence. She  therefore  determined  as  soon  as  Be- 
dell's strength  would  permit  that  he  should  be 
removed  to  her  own  home,  where  he  could  have 
cheerful  companionship  and  not  be  subject  to 
exposure. 


102  AN    UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

How  was  this  removal  to  be  effected  ?  He  was 
a  heavy  man,  he  could  not  yet  stand  upon  his 
single  leg,  he  was  in  the  second  story  of  the 
house,  and  except  her  colored  servants  she  had  no 
one  to  assist  her.  She  called  upon  Dick  Runner 
to  devise  some  means  for  his  transfer. 

"Dick,"  she  said,  "the  wounded  soldier  must 
not  be  left  in  that  solitary,  exposed  house  any 
longer.  I  want  him  removed  to  my  house.  It 
must  be  done  at  once — to-day — and  you  must 
find  a  way  to  do  it." 

"Dat's  a  hard  job,  Missus  Betty!  De  kunnel 
can't  walk — he  mus'  be  carried.  He's  berry 
heavy.     I  don't  see  how  it's  to  be  done." 

"But  you  must  see.  It's  cruel  to  have  him  lie 
there  and  suffer  when  he  could  be  so  comfortable 
with  us.  We  must  move  him  to-day  and  you 
must  find  the  way!" 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  but  you  mus'  give  me 
time  to  tink !  You  are  alius  in  a  dreff ul  hurry. 
Miss  Betty.  You  kinder  scares  me."  So  say- 
ing he  seated  himself  upon  a  bowlder,  clasped  his 
head  with  both  hands,  and  was  apparently  buried 
deep  in  reflection. 

He  did  not  keep  her  waiting  long.  "Miss 
Betty,"  he  exclaimed,  "I's  got  it — I's  got  it! 
But  we  mus'  not  move  him  to-day.  Dem  As- 
burys  is  a-watchin'.  They  has  been  four  or  five 
tramps  hazin'  round  here  and  dey  specks  some- 
thing.    Up  in  the  garret  of  the  mill  there  is  an 


REMOVAL   AND   CONCEALMENT.  103 

old  stretcher;  dey  carried  stones  and  bricks  on  it. 
I  knows  I  kin  find  it.  You  wait  till  night,  put 
his  mattress  an'  comforter  on  it,  Ginny  an'  I  will 
carry  one  end,  Peter  an'  some  other  darky  will 
take  the  other,  an'  we'll  carry  him  right  over 
to  your  house!" 

She  recognized  the  wisdom  of  waiting  until 
evening,  and  Dick  was  directed  to  prepare  the 
stretcher  and  engage  the  carriers.  The  only  op- 
position came  from  Bedell.  He  would  not,  he 
said,  helpless  hulk  that  he  was,  be  carried  into 
her  house  to  turn  it  into  a  hospital.  He  was 
grateful  enough  to  her,  Heaven  knew,  but  this 
was  too  much.  He  was  beginning  to  have  some 
hope — he  was  getting  stronger.  She  must  let 
him  fight  out  the  battle  where  he  was,  alone. 

"Lieutenant,"  said  the  determined  woman, 
"you  are  not  going  to  waste  your  strength  nor 
my  time.  I  am  stronger  than  you  are  and  my 
three  servants  will  help  me.  You  are  going  over 
to  my  house  to-night,  and  your  objections  will 
not  weigh  a  feather's  weight.  You  are  a  sick 
man — you  don't  know  what  is  best  for  you.  I 
do !  Here  comes  Ginny  with  your  coffee  and  a 
ration  of  canned  beef.  That  is  good  for  you  be- 
yond any  controversy!  Now  be  good  and  obedi- 
ent and  obey  your  nurse!" 

Bedell  was  silenced.  He  obeyed.  That  night 
the  old  stretcher  was  brought,  the  heavy  man 
was   laid   upon   it,  and  three  colored  men   and 


104  AN    UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

Ginny  carried  him  gently  down  the  stairs  out 
under  the  open  sky.  It  was  raining.  The  Vir- 
ginia woman  protected  the  Union  officer  from  the 
rain  with  her  umbrella — the  procession  moved 
slowly,  though  safely,  across  the  fields  to  her 
home. 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  had  asked  him  whether  he  had 
not  been  refreshed  by  the  sponge-bath  given  him 
by  Dr.  Osborne,  and  he  had  responded  with  great 
enthusiasm.  She  thereuiDon  directed  Dick  and 
Ginny,  in  spite  of  his  remonstrances,  to  repeat 
the  process.  After  it  was  completed  he  was  placed 
in  a  broad,  soft  bed  in  a  pleasantly  furnished 
apartment,  which  he  afterward  learned  was  the 
room  of  his  hostess,  which  she  had  surrendered  for 
his  use.  Then  she  gave  him  a  cooling,  quieting 
draught,  prepared  by  the  doctor,  which  seemed 
to  take  away  from  him  all  disposition  to  resist, 
and  he  slept. 

His  hostess  was  as  much  relieved  from  anxiety 
as  himself.  He  was  removed  without  the  knowl- 
edge of  any  one  but  herself  and  her  trusted  ser- 
vants. Tramps  and  guerillas  would  scarcely 
suspect  his  presence  in  her  own  room.  She 
might  reasonably  hope  that  he  would  be  permitted 
to  travel  the  road  to  convalescence  and  recovery 
without  interference  or  interruption.  However, 
his  greatest  danger  lay  in  the  possibility  of  dis- 
covery, and  to  prevent  that  should  be  the  study  of 
her  present  life. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE   DREAM   WHICH   WAS   NOT   ALL   A   DREAM. 

The  journey  to  Harper's  Ferry,  the  anxiety 
and  excitement,  which  were  constant  until  the 
wounded  man  was  safe  under  her  own  roof,  would 
have  worn  out  any  one  who  was  not  sustained  by 
a  strong  sense  of  duty.  Mas.  Vsn  Metre  had  de- 
termined to  nurse  him  through  that  first  night  in 
his  new  quarters  and  had  dismissed  her  colored 
assistants  to  their  homes.  When  she  saw  how 
peacefully  her  patient  was  sleeping,  she  experi- 
enced a  strong  desire  herself  for  a  similar  rest. 
She  extinguished  all  the  lights,  dropped  upon  a 
lounge,  threw  a  shawl  over  herself,  and  was  soon 
sleeping  as  refreshingly  as  her  charge. 

Both  slept  far  into  the  long  autumn  night.  The 
lieutenant  first  awoke.  His  slight  movement 
showed  him  that  his  nurse  was  at  her  post  of 
duty. 

"Do  you  want  anything?"  she  asked  as  she 
started  to  relight  the  lamps. 

"Please  do  not  strike  a  light,"  he  said. 
"  Leave  the  room  as  it  is.  I  wish  to  tell  you 
something.     If  I  saw  your  face  I  might  not  have 

105 


106  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

the  courage  to  tell  you  what  I  wish  to  say.  Will 
you  kindly  sit  where  I  can  feel  your  presence?" 

She  seated  herself  by  his  bedside  and  took  his 
unwounded  hand.  She  waited  some  time  in  si- 
lence and  then  asked : 

"What  was  it  that  you  wished  to  say?" 

"Mrs.  Van  Metre,"  he  said  in  a  low  but  very 
firm  voice,  "I  have  seen  your  husband  to-night." 

She  was  startled.  She  thought  he  had  sud- 
denly been  stricken  with  insanity.  "How  did 
you  know  that  I  had  a  husband?"  she  asked. 

"I  do  not  know  unless  I  dreamed  it,"  he  said, 
and  again  relapsed  into  silence. 

"Tell  me  the  storj^,"  she  said.  "There  is  no 
one  to  hear  it  but  ourselves." 

"It  was  a  dream,"  he  said.  "I  know  it  was  a 
dream.  There  is  no  truth  in  dreams.  It  is  absurd 
to  tell  them,  yet  this  one  was  fearfully  real. 
You  will  not  think  me  light-headed  or  that  I 
have  lost  my  senses?" 

"  Indeed  I  will  not.  You  excite  my  curiosity. 
I  shoiild  much  like  to  hear  it.  I  am  curious  to 
learn  how  you  came  to  know  about  my  husband. 
These  dreams  have  sometimes  proved  prophetic." 

"If  I  shall  not  earn  your  contempt  I  will  tell 
you  the  whole  story.  I  fear  my  sleep  has  weak- 
ened me,  and  I  may  never  be  stronger." 

"Tell  it  in  your  own  way.  We  can  discuss  it 
afterward." 

"  This  was  the  way  of  it.     I  was  in  that  horri- 


THE   DREAM  WHICH   WAS   NOT   A   DREAM.      107 

ble  room  where  you  found  me  and  I  was  dying 
of  thirst  and  starvation.  What  I  wanted  more 
than  anything  else  was  to  write  my  name,  regi- 
ment, the  date  of  my  death,  and  the  j^lace  where 
I  was  to  be  buried.  I  wanted  my  wife  and  friends 
to  know  where  I  lay.  It  appeared  that  I  had 
already  suffered  all  that  mortal  man  could  suffer 
and  live.  With  great  pains  I  had  found  a  pencil 
and  a  piece  of  board  upon  which  I  was  trying  to 
write  my  name.  The  Asburys  had  been  watch- 
ing me  with  hungry  eyes.  They  seized  the  board 
and  tore  it  from  me.  In  the  struggle  I  lost  con- 
sciousness. 

"Then  I  was  restored  far  enough  to  know  that 
some  one  gave  me  a  refreshing  drink.  In  an 
instant  I  was  another  being — all  my  pains,  cares, 
anxieties  had  vanished.  I  was  as  light  as  air. 
By  a  gentle  spring  with  my  one  limb  I  could 
ascend  indefinitely — to  the  heavens  if  I  wished, 
I  was  supremely  happy.  I  pitied  those  who  were 
tied  down  to  this  dull,  senseless  earth.  Distance 
was  nothing  to  me.  A  wish  transported  me  any- 
where I  chose  to  go.  I  wanted  to  see  my  home. 
By  a  graceful  series  of  ascents  and  descents,  like 
travelling  over  a  rolling  country,  I  was  there. 
My  children  were  hanging  on  my  neck,  my  wife 
was  embracing  me  and  saying:  'It  was  cruel  of 
you,  Henry,  not  to  write  us  for  all  these  long 
weeks  when  we  were  mourning  you  as  dead,  and 
then  come  upon  us  so  suddenly.    Your  own  colonel 


108  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

reported  you  as  mortally  wounded  and  then  as 
dead,  and  we  never  expected  to  see  you  again. ' 

"■'I  have  been  wounded  and  very  near  to  death, ' 
I  said.  'Do  you  not  see  that  it  is  only  a  part  of 
your  husband  who  has  come  back  to  you?  But 
for  a  woman  as  good  and  true  as  yourself  I  should 
have  died  as  awful  a  death  as  you  could  imagine, 
and  you  never  would  have  known  where  I  was 
buried.'  Then  I  told  her  all  about  you — how 
energetic  and  kind  you  had  been,  and  how  you  had 
saved  my  life  when  you  were  in  great  trouble 
yourself.  I  told  her  of  your  anxiety  about  your 
husband,  who  was  a  prisoner  if  he  was  aliv^e,  and 
that  you  sometimes  feared  he  was  not  living,  and 
that  I  owed  you  such  a  debt  of  gratitude  that  I 
ought  to  find  your  husband  and  get  him  released 
if  he  was  in  prison,  for  you  had  saved  me  and 
given  me  back,  to  her.  'God  bless  her !'  exclaimed 
my  wife.  'Our  children  shall  be  taught  to  love 
her  and  I  will  never  make  a  prayer  that  does  not 
invoke  blessings  on  her  head. '  Then  we  went 
into  our  children's  room,  and  I  heard  them  talk- 
ing in  their  sleep  of  their  father. 

"  My  wife  was  suddenly  startled.  I  had  tried 
already  to  call  her  attention  to  my  crippled  con- 
dition, but  her  mind  was  so  full  of  joy  that  she 
did  not  notice  what  I  said.  Now  she  saw  my 
defect.  'Why,  Henry,'  she  exclaimed,  'you  have 
lost  a  part  of  yourself!' 

"'You   were   too  proud   of   the  strength   and 


THE   DREAM   WHICH   WAS   NOT   A   DREAM.      109 

activity  of  your  husband.  So  was  I.  It  was 
necessary  that  our  pride  should  have  a  fall.  I 
have  lost  my  leg,  but  as  I  said  before  I  have 
gained  the  friendship  of  a  woman  who  is  as 
noble  and  good  and  kind  as  yourself.  Could  I  say 
more  of  any  woman?' 

"Just  here  comes  in  the  remarkable  part  of 
my  dream,  You  must  think  me  foolish  for  re- 
lating it  to  you.     But  it  did  seem  so  real!" 

"Indeed,  you  misjudge  me,"  said  his  auditor. 
"Your  strange  vision  interests  me.  Perhaps  I 
will  tell  you  how  deeply  when  you  have  finished. 
I  should  be  sorry  if  you  did  not  give  me  the  whole 
of  the  story." 

"  My  dear  wife  whispered  in  my  ear  that  she 
feared  I  had  been  ungrateful.  'I  am  strangely 
drawn  toward  that  woman,'  she  said.  'Think 
how  great  a  debt  we  owe  her!  What  is  her 
name  ?  Where  did  you  leave  her  ?  Is  she  happy  ? 
She  cannot  possibly  be  contented  not  knowing 
the  fate  of  her  husband.  It  would  be  hard  for 
us  to  part  with  you  again,  but  we  would  do  it 
for  you  to  go  back  to  her  and  help  her  find  her 
husband. ' 

"  'You  recall  me  to  my  duty,'  I  said.  'I 
do  not  know  why  I  left  her.  She  is  in  trouble. 
Nothing  but  the  sorrow  that  strains  the  heart  to 
the  point  of  breaking  could  have  impressed  the 
sadness  which  was  in  her  face  when  I  last  saw  it. 
I  deserve  to  be  punished  for  leaving  her.     I  have 


110  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

been  ungrateful,  I  will  go  back  to  her  and  do 
what  I  can  to  repair  my  error. ' 

"I  remember  that  my  wife  stood  before  me, 
and  I  thought  I  never  saw  a  woman  with  a  more 
noble  expression  upon  her  face.  'Henry,'  she 
said,  'I  have  been  very  proud  of  you.  But  if  you 
can  rest  until  you  have  either  aided  that  woman 
to  find  her  husband  or  to  ascertain  that  he  is  no 
longer  living,  you  are  not  the  man  I  married — 
you  are  no  husband  of  mine ! ' 

"Then,  as  if  a  curtain  had  been  let  down  from 
the  sky  before  me,  I  seemed  to  be  shut  out  from 
my  wife  and  my  home.  Next,  by  one  of  those 
mysterious  changes  which  I  cannot  even  try  to 
explain,  I  was  in  a  camp  of  many  thousand  Con- 
federate prisoners — soldiers  of  the  Southern  army. 
There  was  a  long  building  of  one  story  over 
which  floated  a  hospital  flag.  Near  it,  shaded  by 
large  trees,  were  tents  in  which  very  sick  men 
lay.  In  one  of  them  there  was  only  a  single 
patient.  He  lay  upon  a  cot,  to  which  he  had 
just  been  brought.  He  was  dreadfully  emaci- 
ated. His  head  had  just  been  shaved,  his  body 
had  been  washed,  and  as  he  lay  upon  his  back, 
his  hollow  cheeks,  sunken  eyes,  and  ashen  face 
showed  that  he  had  been  a  great  sufferer,  jDroba- 
bly  from  a  long  fever.  He  could  only  speak  in 
whispers.  An  old  gray-haired  general  with  a 
benignant  face,  a  lady  young  enough  to  be  his 
daughter,  a   surgeon,  and  an  old   colored  man 


THE   DREAM   WHICH   WAS   NOT   A   DREAM.       Ill 

stood  around  the  sick  man.  The  lady  had  turned 
her  face  away  from  the  sufferer ;  her  breast  was 
swelling  with  emotion  and  her  gentle  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears. 

"In  a  corner  of  the  tent  stood  another  person. 
He  had  a  fawning,  treacherous,  hang-dog  look. 
I  have  no  words  adequate  to  describe  the  villa- 
nous  meanness  of  his  appearance  or  expression. 
A  soldier  stood  beside  him  who  appeared  to  be 
his  guard. 

"'What  do  you  make  of  his  case,  doctor?'  I 
heard  the  general  ask. 

" '  It  is  a  case  of  brain  fever  complicated  with 
the  most  inexcusable  negligence  and  I  fear  with 
violence.  Look  at  his  wrists — they  carry  the 
marks  of  manacles  which  have  worn  away  the 
skin. ' 

"  'He  was  very  violent,  sir.  He  was  dangerous. 
He  tried  to  kill  me.  We  had  to  restrain  him  or 
he  would  have  killed  us  all, '  whined  the  wretch 
who  stood  by  the  soldier. 

"'Silence,  you  villain!  Not  another  word 
from  your  lying  lips ! '  said  the  general,  with  a 
most  righteous  ring  to  his  voice.  Then  I  saw 
that  the  man  addressed  was  a  rat-mouthed, 
ferret-eyed  caitiff  in  the  dress  of  a  nurse  or  hos- 
pital attendant.  He  seemed  crushed  by  the 
words  of  the  general. 

"'Can  you  save  the  poor  man's  life?'  asked 
the  general  of  the  surgeon. 


112  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"'I  do  not  know — I  cannot  answer  now.  His 
case  is  very  doubtful.  The  fever  is  still  upon 
him.  We  have  been  very  gentle  in  our  treat- 
ment of  him.  If  he  does  not  sink  under  it  I  shall 
have  some  hope.  It  was  most  fortunate  that 
your  daughter  found  him  this  morning.  Another 
access  of  his  fever  would  inevitably  have  been 
fatal. ' 

"'Was  it  not  cruel  to  shave  his  head  in  that 
manner?  Why  was  it  necessary,  doctor?'  in- 
quired the  sweet  voice  of  the  lady. 

"'The  answer  is  scarcely  fitting  for  a  lady's 
ear,'  replied  the  surgeon.  'It  was  not  only  nec- 
essary, it  was  indispensable.  He  would  other- 
wise have  been  devoured  by  vermin!' 

"'He  wouldn't  let  me  do  anything.  He 
wouldn't  take  anything  from  me,'  began  the 
wretch. 

"'I  tell  you  silence!'  thundered  the  general. 
He  called  in  a  sergeant  and  a  file  of  men.  'Take 
that  man, '  he  said,  pointing  to  the  miserable  crea- 
ture who  had  just  spoken,  'to  the  guard-house. 
Put  him  in  irons.  Give  him  bread  and  water 
only.  If  this  poor  prisoner  dies  his  life  shall 
pay  the  forfeit,  if  I  take  it  with  my  own  hands. ' 

"  Then  the  sufferer  on  the  cot  made  an  effort 
to  speak.  We  could  all  hear  him,  for  there  was 
no  sound  to  break  the  silence  but  the  sighs  of 
the  compassionate  woman.  'Will  some  one  write 
to  my  wife  in  the  valley,'  he  said,  'and  tell  her 


THE   DREAM   WHICH   V.^AS   NOT   A   DREAM,       113 

where  I  am  ?  I  know  that  my  letters  have  been 
suppressed.  She  has  not  heard  from  me  for 
many  weeks.     She  must  think  I  am  dead !' 

"'What  is  the  name  and  post-office  address  of 
your  wife?'  asked  the  general. 

" '  Her  name  is  Betty  Van  Metre  and  she  lives 
in  Berry ville,  in  the  valley, '  said  the  sick  man. 

"  I  had  hitherto  said  not  a  word.  But  when  I 
heard  your  name  and  knew  that  the  patient  was 
your  husband  I  could  not  restrain  myself.  '  What 
is  the  name  of  this  j^lace?'  I  asked.  'Gentlemen, 
I  know  this  man's  wife.  Tell  me  the  name  of 
this  place,  and  she  shall  be  here  as  quick  as 
steam  and  the  railroad  can  bring  her.  I  owe  my 
hfe  to  Mrs.  Ytxn  Metre!' 

"  All  except  the  lady  stared  at  me  as  if  I  was 
an  impertinent  intruder.  The  general  demanded 
by  what  right  I  thrust  myself  into  their  councils 
in  a  matter  which  did  not  concern  me. 

"  I  tried  to  remonstrate.  I  told  them  that  if 
they  knew  how  much  I  owed  to  you  they  would 
not  stand  upon  ceremony.  I  said,  'For  the  sake 
of  that  poor  sick  man,  for  mine— as  you  hope  for 
blessings  here  and  for  mercy  hereafter,  tell  me  the 
name  of  this  place,  and  I  will  thank  you  on  my 
knees. '  " 

"Did  you  learn  the  name  of  the  place?" 

"Alas!  no.  The  earnestness  of  my  appeal — 
my  intense  anxiety  awoke  me.  The  vision  passed 
and  I  heard  your  voice  almost  at  my  side." 


114  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"Are  you  quite  certain  that  the  man  who  lay 
upon  the  cot  gave  my  name?" 

"As  certain  as  that  I  now  hear  your  voice." 

"  Would  you  recognize  the  face  of  the  sick  man 
if  you  saw  it  in  a  picture?" 

"I  think  so — I  have  no  doubt  I  should." 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  controlled  her  feelings  more 
perfectly  than  the  wounded  officer.  "  I  heard  in 
May  last,"  she  said,  "that  my  husband  had  been 
captured  a  second  time  near  Spottsylvania  Court 
House.  Up  to  that  time  he  had  been  a  faithful 
correspondent.  Since  then  I  have  heard  nothing 
from  him.  I  cannot  understand  his  silence.  I 
think  I  should  have  died  of  grief  if  I  had  not 
kept  my  mind  emjDloyed.  Your  vision,  as  you 
call  it,  at  least  suggests  the  chance  that  he  may 
be  alive.  I  had  almost  lost  hope  in  these  days  of 
weary  suspense  and  waiting." 

"Your  husband  is  alive.  He  is  in  good  hands 
now,  although  he  has  been  a  sufferer  from  some 
treachery.  You  will  see  him  again.  1  wanted 
to  live  before  for  my  country,  children,  and  my 
wife.  I  have  now  another  reason,  for  if  I  live  I 
will  find  your  husband  and  give  him  back  to  you !" 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  now  drew  the  curtains,  for  the 
sun  was  already  reddening  the  crest  of  the  east- 
ern Blue  Ridge.  She  took  from  a  drawer  a  pho- 
tograph album  containing  a  number  of  por- 
traits. She  held  it  before  his  eyes  and  began  to 
turn  the  leaves.     At  the  second  portrait  he  said : 


THE   DREAM   WHICH   WAS   NOT   A   DREAM.       115 

"  Stop !  That  is  the  face  of  the  man  I  saw  last 
night  on  the  cot  in  the  hospital  tent.  He  was 
not  stalwart  and  vigorous  as  he  appears  here,  but 
it  is  the  same  face,  worn  and  wasted  by  fever 
and  exposure." 

"That  picture,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  "is  the 
last  photograjDh  of  my  husband." 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  during  the  long 
morning  twilight  while  the  darkness  of  the  night 
was  slowly  changing  to  the  bright  light  of  day. 
"I  am  sincerely  grateful  for  your  interest,"  she 
said,  "but  you  are  excited  now,  and  in  your 
weak  condition  excitement  is  dangerous.  It  is 
very  singular  that  the  events  of  the  last  few  days 
should  have  so  multiplied  your  chances  of  re- 
covery and  so  filled  my  heart  with  confidence 
and  hope.  It  is  said  that  dreams  are  only  base- 
less imaginations.  That  may  be  true.  Neverthe- 
less yours  has  been  very  comforting,  a  healing 
balm  for  at  least  one  wounded  heart.  A  very 
great  and  good  man,  troubled  as  we  have  been, 
had  his  life  changed  by  a  supernatural  revelation. 
Standing  before  a  great  king,  he  declared  that  'he 
was  not  disobedient  to  the  heavenly  vision. '  It 
will  make  me  stronger,  a  more  hopeful  wife,  and 
a  more  earnest  woman  to  believe  that  my  husband 
lives  and  that  through  you  I  may  yet  see  his  face." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  OPEQUAN  OR  WINCHESTER — THE 
PROGRESS  OF  THE  WOUNDED  OFFICER — THE 
SKILL   AND   ENTERPRISE   OF    HIS   HOSTESS. 

Hopeless,  in  his  desolate  room,  waiting  for 
death,  Bedell  had  heard  the  guns  of  Sheridan's 
first  great  battle  in  the  valley.  It  was  fought 
on  the  19th  of  September.  The  Unionists  call 
it  the  battle  of  the  Opequan ;  the  Confederates, 
with  more  propriety,  the  battle  of  Winchester. 
No  part  of  the  battle  v/as  fought  upon  the  river ; 
the  heaviest  fighting  was  within  sight  of  the 
spires  of  Winchester. 

Although  bedell  had  no  knowledge  of  it  at  the 
time,  Getty's  division  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  to  which 
the  Vermont  brigade  was  attached,  with  the  First 
Division  under  the  gallant  Russell,  on  the  18th  of 
September  was  again  encamjDed  for  the  night 
at  Claremont,  near  the  deserted  house  where  he 
lay.  In  the  early  morning,  before  the  army 
moved,  General  Russell  had  presented  to  Colonel 
Luke,  the  owner  of  Claremont,  his  favorite  mare. 
She  had  been  wounded,  and  her  master  left  her, 
under  Colonel  Luke's  promise  that  she  should  be 

'll6 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OPEQUAN  OR  WINCHESTER.   117 

cured  and  cared  for.  "A  few  hours  afterward," 
said  Colonel  Luke  to  the  writer,  "her  brave 
owner  lay  dead  upon  the  field,  but  the  descend- 
ants of  his  favorite  mare  have  ever  since  been 
celebrated  as  the  best-tempered  and  most  admi- 
rable horses  ever  bred  in  the  valle}'.''  Had  the 
officers  of  the  Vermont  brigade  knov/n  that 
Bedell  was  living  and  where  he  was,  he  would 
have  had  many  friendly  visitors. 

The  main  body  of  the  Union  army  struck  the 
road  from  Berryville  to  Winchester,  followed  it 
about  five  miles,  and  crossed  the  river  at  the  ford. 
They  followed  the  road  through  a  wooded  ravine 
called  Ash  Eun,  the  scene  of  much  bloody  bush- 
whacking, for  about  two  miles,  constantly  ex- 
pecting to  meet  the  enemy.  As  they  filed  out  of 
the  ravine  into  the  open  country,  on  a  hill  to  the 
northward  of  the  road  they  saw  Sheridan  with 
his  staff  and  knew  that  the  battle  was  to  be 
fought  under  his  eye  and  command.  With  a 
cheer  Getty's  division  formed  its  line  of  battle 
across  the  road,  its  left,  held  by  the  Vermonters, 
resting  upon  Abraham  Creek,  a  stream  running 
nearly  parallel  to  the  road  to  its  mouth  just 
south  of  the  Opequan  ford.  Other  divisions 
formed  on  their  right,  extending  far  north  of  the 
road,  the  Sixth  Vermont  being  sent  forward  as 
skirmishers.  The  line  being  thus  formed,  the 
advance  commenced. 

The  main  body  of  the  Confederate  army  was  at 


118  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

Stephenson's  Depot,  on  the  railroad  about  five 
miles  north  of  Winchester.  General  Early  and 
his  staff  were  on  a  hill  north  of  the  Berryville 
road  and  within  a  mile  of  Winchester.  As  soon 
as  he  discovered  the  Union  line,  he  sent  aid  after 
aid  to  hasten  his  army.  In  order  to  give  the 
cavalry  under  Crook,  Averill,  and  Merritt  time  to 
get  into  their  desired  position,  the  Sixth  Corps 
was  halted  for  two  or  three  anxious  hours  and 
stood  apparently  waiting  while  Early's  army  was 
coming  up.  Ramseur  and  Gordon's  divisions  of 
the  Confederate  army  arrived,  crossed  the  road, 
and  confronted  the  extreme  left  of  the  Union 
line.  Fitzhugh  Lee's  artillery  took  its  position 
in  a  wood  north  of  the  Berryville  road. 

The  Union  advance  then  commenced.  It  was 
over  a  rolling  country  in  which  there  were  some 
woods  and  very  deep  ravines.  It  is  not  our  pur- 
pose to  describe  this  advance.  It  is  enough  to 
say  that  it  was  not  only  against  a  fierce  fire 
directly  in  front,  but  Lee's  artillery  from  the 
wood  north  of  the  road  enfiladed  the  Union  line 
as  it  slowly  moved  forward.  The  slaughter  was 
terrible,  but  nothing  could  arrest  the  steady  for- 
ward movement  of  the  Sixth  Corps.  They  were 
fighting  under  the  eye  of  Sheridan.  They  knew 
that  they  had  not  been  held  back,  that  they  were 
not  subjected  to  that  murderous  fire  without  a 
purpose.  So  they  moved  steadily  forward  down 
into  the  ravines,  up  their  rocky  sides,  with  ranks 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OPEQUAN  OR  WINCHESTER.      119 

thinning  at  every  step,  until  they  had  forced  the 
enemy  back  to  within  a  mile  of  Winchester. 

There  had  been  checks  in  this  advance — once 
or  twice  the  line  had  been  broken  and  a  part  of 
it  had  been  forced  back.  But  it  was  re-forraed 
and  finally  General  Wright  put  all  his  reserves 
into  the  battle.  The  Sixth  and  the  Nineteenth 
Corps  now  moved  on,  driving  the  enemy,  captur- 
ing many  prisoners,  and  finally  overcoming  every- 
thing in  its  front  and  clearing  its  part  of  the 
battle-field. 

Now  the  result  of  Sheridan's  combinations  be- 
gan to  be  apparent.  Crook's  cavalry,  together 
with  that  of  Averill  and  Merritt,  had  made  a  long 
detour  to  the  northward  and  had  finally  got  into 
position.  Then  it  was  that  Sheridan  rode  along 
the  whole  line  of  battle  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  in  the 
midst  of  the  storm  of  bullets,  shouting  as  he 
passed  each  brigade,  "Crook  and  Averill  are  on 
their  left  and  rear,  and  by  Heaven  we've  got  them 
bagged!" 

A  member  of  General  Early's  staff  who  stood 
with  the  writer  on  a  slight  elevation  just  north 
of  the  Berry ville  road,  almost  thirty  years  after- 
ward, gave  the  Confederate  view  of  the  closing 
moments  of  the  battle.  "From  the  top  of  this 
hill,"  he  said,  "General  Early  had  given  his 
orders  during  the  day.  From  this  hill  aid  after 
aid  had  been  sent  to  hurry  forward  the  troops 
from  Stephenson's  Depot,  and  yonder,"  pointing 


120  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

to  an  elevation  on  the  east  side  of  the  road,  "  is 
where  Gordon  and  Eamseur  first  formed  their 
line.  From  yonder  wood  Fitz  Lee  enfiladed  the 
Union  lines  with  his  artillery,  inflicting  heavy 
losses  upon  them.  Farther  east  in  another  wood 
was  a  Federal  battery.  They  fired  upon  us  until 
they  got  our  range,  and  their  shells  came  so  close 
that  we  had  to  retire  to  the  west  side  of  the  hill. 
All  through  the  long  day  our  lines  had  stood  firm 
and  unbroken.  We  had  begun  to  hope  that  they 
could  not  be  broken  by  the  Federal  force.  But 
suddenly  over  yonder  hill,  far  beyond  our  left 
and  in  our  rear,  came  a  large  body  of  cavalry. 
Before  it  our  lines  seemed  to  melt  away  and  sink 
into  the  earth.  It  was  a  heart-sickening  specta- 
cle to  us.  The  cavalry  moved  on  at  a  slow  gallop, 
but  the  disappearance  of  our  line  moved  with 
greater  speed.  It  was  not  checked  until  it  reached 
Eamseur's  division,  on  our  extreme  right.  That 
division  retired,  without  breaking,  around  the 
easterly  side  of  Winchester  into  the  pike  beyond. 
The  remainder  of  our  army,  broken  and  disor- 
ganized, fled  through  the  streets  of  the  old  town, 
pursued  and  many  of  them  captured  by  your 
cavalry.  The  pursuit  was  continued  to  Kerns- 
town,  three  miles  beyond.  There,  after  sunset, 
Eamseur  made  a  stand  and  gave  his  pursuers  a 
volley.  They  inferred  that  we  had  been  met  by 
a  reinforcement  and  the  pursuit  was  over." 
The  result  of  the  battle  of  Winchester  and  that 


THE  BATTLE  OF  OPEQUAN  OR  WINCHESTER.      121 

of  Fisher's  Hill,  only  two  days  later,  turned  the 
route  of  the  Union  army  away  from  Berryville, 
and  the  Confederates  being  still  farther  south, 
this  part  of  Clarke  County  was  left  to  the  rule 
of  the  strongest.  Camp-followers,  bounty-jump- 
ers, and  tramps  of  the  lowest  species  swarmed 
over  the  region  like  an  Egyptian  plague.  How 
that  solitary  woman  managed  to  suppress  the  fact 
that  a  Union  soldier  was  recovering  from  his 
wounds  in  her  house  must  always  remain  a  mys- 
tery. Except  that  it  was  very  slow,  there  was 
nothing  very  unusual  in  BedeH's  progress  toward 
convalescence,  but  many  days  elapsed  before  he 
could  move  about  the  room  with  improvised 
crutches  on  his  remaining  leg.  Seldom  did  a 
day  pass  when  Mrs.  Van  Metre's  house  was  not 
visited  by  one  or  more  of  the  wandering  vaga- 
bonds. Bedell  was  in  her  own  room.  She  took 
good  care  to  let  every  lawless  visitor  know  that 
it  was  her  room,  and  those  who  had  any  decency 
kept  out  of  it.  But  if  they  insisted  upon  enter- 
ing it,  she  was  not  at  the  end  of  her  resources. 
There  was  a  door  into  a  dark  room  in  the  mill. 
Sometimes  the  patient  was  bundled  into  that 
room.  Sometimes  she  boldly  threw  open  the 
door  and  told  them  to  enter  and  insult  the  privacy 
of  an  undefended  woman  if  they  would.  They 
had  never  yet  done  so,  for  they  were  too  cowardly 
to  brave  her  indignation. 

The  patient  did  not  suffer  now  for  want  of  the 


122  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

best  nursing.  Dick  and  Ginny  his  wife  and 
Peter  Dennis  had  faithful  hearts  under  their 
black  skins,  and  the  attention  of  Dr.  Osborne 
was  unremitting.  He  was  now  supplied  with 
strengthening  food  and  proper  medicines.  The 
journey  to  HarjDer's  Ferry  was  made  once  every 
week.  The  old  horse  improved  in  his  strength 
and  paces,  and.  his  appearance  on  the  road  had 
become  so  common  that  it  ceased  to  attract  the 
attention  of  those  who  lived  along  the  turnpike. 

But  the  cautious  woman  did  not  relax  her 
vigilance.  She  knew  that  excejDt  those  who  were 
exempted  from  the  draft  by  age,  the  men  who 
remained  at  home  were  equally  destitute  of  honor 
and  humanity.  It  would  be  a  congenial  work 
for  one  of  these  miscreants  to  inform  the  criminals 
living  in  their  mountain  dens  of  her  journey 
and  of  the  time  of  her  return  with  her  supplies, 
and  thus  furnish  them  with  an  opportunity  to 
rob  a  woman.  Once  only  was  she  interfered 
with  in  this  manner.  It  was  not  unusual  for 
these  wretches  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  traveller. 
Ash  Run  and  other  ravines  had  become  so  noto- 
rious that  no  one  passed  them  except  under  the 
protection  of  a  guard.  An  accomplice  in  the 
town  had  informed  one  of  these  parties  of  her 
journeys  to  Harper-s  Ferry  and  her  return  with 
supplies.  The  fact  that  she  was  a  woman,  which 
would  have  secured  her  immunity  from  ever}* 
decent  thief,  was  only  an  additional  inducement 


PROGRESS   OF   THE   WOUNDED    OFFICER.         123 

for  these  rascals,  because  they  could  rob  a  woman 
with  less  risk  than  a  man.  There  were  four  of 
them  who  on  one  occasion  lay  in  wait  for  her. 
It  was  in  a  wood  through  which  the  turnpike 
passed,  nearly  a  mile  from  the  nearest  house. 
But  they  had  not  counted  upon  any  resistance. 
Her  escort  was  a  factor  neglected  in  their  prepa- 
rations. They  had  halted  the  old  horse.  They 
had  dismounted,  left  their  horses  in  the  wood, 
and  now  two  on  each  side  of  the  wagon  were  en- 
deavoring to  persuade  the  driver  to  ransom  her 
horse  and  wagon  by  a  peaceful  surrender  of  the 
contents  of  the  latter.  There  was  a  sudden  rush- 
ing sound  like  the  coming  of  a  furious  storm ; 
there  was  a  gleam  of  steel  in  the  moonlight — the 
sickening  sound  of  cutting  edges  upon  living  flesh, 
and  when  the  storm  had  swept  past,  the  four 
thieves  lay  wounded  upon  the  roadside.  Their 
wounds  were  not  mortal,  but  they  were  desper- 
ately painful  and  effectually  disabled  every  one 
of  the  robbers.  The  old  horse  jogged  onward  to 
his  destination,  and  the  attack  upon  his  driver 
was  never  renewed. 

There  was  only  one  ground  of  suspicion,  on  the 
part  of  the  agents  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  at 
Harper's  Ferry,  of  the  good  faith  of  Mrs.  Van 
Metre's  weekly  requisition.  It  was  the  extraor- 
dinary quantity  of  whiskey  required  for  the  con- 
sumption of  the  invalid.  Her  explanation,  how- 
ever, was  very  satisfactory.     There  were  a  number 


124  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

of  old  men  in  the  neighborhood  not  included  in 
the  drastic  terms  of  the  Confederate  draft.  It 
was  impossible  to  conceal  from  these  patriarchs 
the  fact  that  a  Confederate  woman  was  nursing 
a  wounded  Union  officer  who  was  attended  by  the 
country  doctor.  But  every  one  of  them  was 
amenable  to  the  seductive  influence  of  good 
whiskey,  whicli  some  of  them  had  not  tasted 
since  the  beginning  of  the  war.  The  promise  of 
the  weekly  ration  secured  the  silence  of  every 
one  of  these  venerable  gossips,  and  under  the  in- 
fluence of  such  a  beverage  as  they  had  not  tasted 
since  the  peaceful  ante-bellum  days  they  were 
easily  convinced  that  such  a  shattered  wreck 
as  the  lieutenant  could  not  greatly  imperil  the 
Confederacy.  The  use  of  old  Bourbon  for  these 
diplomatic  purposes  was  recognized  as  a  political 
necessity ;  the  secret  was  kept,  and  the  draft  of 
Mrs.  Van  Metre  was  good  for  anything  contained 
in  the  Sanitary  treasury. 

The  strength  of  the  wounded  officer  soon  re- 
turned to  such  an  extent  that  he  was  able  to 
dictate  a  letter,  which  his  willing  amanuensis 
committed  to  paper;  and  it  was  not  the  less 
precious  to  her  who  received  it  because  of  the 
illegible  scrawl  which  stood  for  his  name,  the 
best  he  could  make  with  his  stump  of  a  hand.  It 
was  duly  directed  and  on  one  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre's 
journeys  posted.  In  due  time  she  carried  back  to 
her  patient  a  bulky  letter  in  a  beloved  hand  writ- 


PROGRESS   OF   THE   WOUNDED    OFFICER.        135 

ing,  postmarked  among  the  Green  Mountains. 
She  opened  it,  handed  its  sheets  successively  to  her 
patient,  and  listened  while  he  read.  The  tender 
confidences  between  husband  and  wife  under 
such  circumstances  are  not  for  the  eye  of  the 
public.  The  letter  told  of  the  health,  comfort, 
and  hope  of  his  wife  and  children — his  happiness 
was  so  supreme  that  for  a  moment  his  nurse  forgot 
her  own  sorrow  and  her  triumph  was  complete. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  WINCHESTER — THE  SEARCH 
FOR  A  FORGOTTEN  GRAVE — AN  ACT  TO  BE 
HONORED  BY  BRAVE  SOLDIERS  AND  EMULATED 
BY   TRUE   WOMEN. 

The  spires  of  the  old  town  of  Winchester  have 
overlooked  some  tragic  scenes.  The  visitor  of 
to-day  will  find  a  quiet  city  of  moderate  size  pre- 
senting no  features  of  general  interest,  in  which 
men  buy  and  sell  and  get  gain  much  the  same  as 
in  other  peaceful  communities.  But  in  one  of 
its  shaded  suburbs  there  is  a  cemetery  in  which 
rest  over  five  thousand  Confederate  dead.  Many 
graves  have  neat  white  marble  slabs  upon  which 
are  inscribed  the  names  and  regiments  of  each 
silent  tenant.  And  there  is  one  very  noble 
monument.  On  its  base  is  recorded  the  fact  that 
beneath  it  are  buried  over  eight  hundred  and 
seventy  unidentified  soldiers  of  the  Confederacy. 
This  city  of  the  dead  is  not  neglected.  It  is  in- 
closed within  an  artistic  fence  of  iron,  the  gift 
of  Charles  Broadway  Rouss,  a  former  citizen  of 
Winchester. 

Adjoining  it  on  the  north  side  is  the  Union 

126 


THE   BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   WIMCHESTER.  127 

cemetery  with  its  more  than  five  thousand  dead. 
Here  too  is  a  noble  monument  to  more  than 
twenty-seven  hundred  unidentified  Union  soldiers. 
This  greater  number  of  the  unknown  is  said  to  be 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  Union  forces  were  stran- 
gers from  the  North,  while  many  of  the  Confeder- 
ates were  residents  of  the  valley. 

These  ten  thousand  lives  were  the  harvest  of 
death  in  the  battle-fields  of  two  campaigns  in 
this  immediate  vicinity.  How  sad  the  story 
which  these  two  monuments  tell !  Every  one  of 
these  soldiers  had  a  home — many  of  them  wives 
and  children,  mourners  for  their  dear  ones,  long 
awaited  but  never  to  return.  Yet  this  abundant 
harvest  of  death  was  from  small  battle-fields 
compared  with  Antietam,  Gettysburg,  or  the 
Wilderness,  each  of  which  was  more  fruitful  in 
the  casualties  of  war. 

How  many  acts  of  heroism  worthy  of  historical 
record  were  performed  within  sight  of  old  Win- 
chester! Here,  just  east  of  the  turnpike  which 
leads  to  Martinsburg,  was  the  bloody  battle  of 
July  20th,  I860,  when  the  Union  forces  coming 
from  Stephenson  met  the  Confederate  army,  and 
after  a  desperate  fight  forced  it  back  through 
the  city  and  then  held  both  city  and  field .  There 
was  hard  and  weary  work  for  the  Federal  sur- 
geons, with  their  own  and  their  enemy's  wounded. 
When  on  that  moonlit  night  the  women  of  Win- 
chester came  out  as  volunteer  nurses,  they  were 


128  AN  UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 

glad  to  receive  them  and  gave  them  enough  to 
do.  It  was  under  yonder  great  oak  that  Miss 
TilHe  Eussell  found  the  frightfully  wounded  boy, 
his  chest  deluged  with  his  blood,  his  face  pale, 
his  body  writhing  in  an  agony  of  pain  all  the 
more  intense  from  his  constrained  position.  She 
raised  his  head  from  the  ground  into  her  lap  and 
supported  it  by  her  arm.  The  movement  gave 
instant  relief  to  his  pain  and  he  fell  asleep.  But 
when  she  sought  to  change  her  position  his  agony 
returned.  She  called  a  surgeon  and  explained  the 
situation.  "  His  sleep  may  save  his  life, "  said  the 
surgeon.  "It  is  the  only  thing  that  will."  She 
made  no  farther  complaint.  She  was  willing  to 
suffer  to  save  him.  Through  the  long  hours  of 
the  dreary  night  she  sat  motionless  holding  the 
boy's  head  in  her  arms.  Her  friends  had  returned 
to  the  town.  She  was  alone  among  the  dead — her 
arm  was  almost  broken  by  the  weight  upon  it. 
But  there  she  sat  while  the  boy  slept  all  through 
the  dreary  hours  of  night  until  the  morning. 
And  his  life  was  saved — he  is  to-day  an  honored 
citizen  of  the  valley.  The  heroine  deserves  some 
better  recognition  than  she  has  hitherto  received. 
Fourteen  months  later,  from  this  hill  General 
Early  hurried  up  the  divisions  of  Eodes  and 
Gordon  from  Stephenson  to  meet  the  Union  lines 
formed  from  Abraham's  Creek  across  the  Berry- 
ville  road,  and  on  yonder  field  they  faced  each 
other  during  that  long  September  day.     On  our 


Lieut,  Bedell 


THE  BATTLE-FIELDS   OF  WINCHESTER.  129 

left  is  the  wood  from  which  Fitzhugh  Lee's  ar- 
tillery so  long  enfiladed  the  Union  lines.  Far  on 
the  right  is  Dinkle's  barn  in  front  of  Eamseur's 
division,  where  the  Union  General  David  A. 
Eussell  led  the  charge  and  lost  his  life.  Almost 
in  our  front  is  Hackwood,  where  an  aid  of  General 
Early  was  delivering  an  order  to  another  general, 
who  fell  dead  while  the  order  was  being  read. 
But  there  is  neither  time  nor  space  here  to  de- 
scribe the  heroic  deeds  witnessed  on  this  battle- 
field. It  was  dotted  with  Confederate  and  Union 
dead  at  the  close  of  the  battle,  and  the  slain  of 
both  armies  were  buried  where  they  fell. 

"  We  fought  Early  from  daylight  until  six  or 
seven  o'clock  and  drove  him  from  Opequan  Creek 
to  and  beyond  Winchester."  Such  was  the  dis- 
patch sent  in  the  evening  of  September  19th  by 
General  Sheridan  to  General  Stephenson  at  Har- 
per's Ferry.  With  so  much  material  the  tempta- 
tion is  strong  to  describe  the  part  of  the  Vermont 
brigade  in  this  fierce  conflict ;  but  such  an  account 
does  not  fall  naturally  within  our  scope,  which 
is  only  to  give  an  idea  of  the  area  and  extent  of 
the  field. 

The  battle  of  Winchester  was  followed  by  that 
of  Fisher's  Hill,  on  the  21st  of  September.  A 
part  of  the  Union  army  then  passed  nearly  a 
month  in  traversing  other  sections  of  the  valley. 
It  went  up  the  valley  as  far  as  Mount  Crawford, 
a  few  miles  beyond  Staunton,  and  thence  down 


130  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

the  valley  through  Harrisonburg  to  the  vicinity 
of  Front  Royal ;  then  by  a  rapid  march  through 
Newtown  and  Middletown  it  rejoined  Sheridan 
near  Martinsburg,  where  the  whole  force  re- 
mained until  shortly  before  the  19th  of  October. 
During  this  time  the  army  of  General  Early  was 
kept  south  of  the  Union  forces. 

By  following  these  movements  on  the  map,  it 
will  be  seen  that  for  a  month  after  the  battle  of 
Winchester  there  was  no  Union  or  Confederate 
force  in  the  vicinity  of  Berryville,  if  the  small 
body  of  irregular  cavalry  under  Mosby  is  excepted. 
Mosby  had,  as  he  claimed  by  way  of  retaliation, 
executed  Union  soldiers,  because  he  said  that 
Custer  had  hung  some  of  his  men,  claiming  that 
they  were  not  a  part  of  the  Confederate  army. 
Mosby  did  not  otherwise  violate  the  laws  of  war. 

This  month  was  the  harvest  of  the  bush- 
whackers and  bounty-jumpers  in  Clarke  County. 
They  came  down  from  the  mountains,  where  they 
carried  on  their  single  industry  of  illicit  distilla- 
tion, and  robbed  the  dwellings  of  the  living  and 
the  graves  of  the  dead.  No  road  was  safe  from 
them.  Ash  Run  and  other  ravines  were  the 
scenes  of  daily  assassination. 

Notwithstanding  these  perils  of  the  road,  Mrs. 
Van  Metre  did  not  omit  her  weekly  trips  to  Har- 
per's Ferry.  Upon  one  of  them  she  learned  that 
one  of  the  Union  officers  who  had  protected  her 
property  and  eaten  at  her  table  had  fallen  in  the 


THE   BATTLE-FIELDS    OF   WINCHESTER.  131 

battle  of  Winchester.  He  had  earned  her  grati- 
tude by  gentle  and  courteous  treatment,  and  now 
when  she  heard  that  he  lay  in  a  nameless  grave 
on  the  field  where  he  had  fallen,  she  instantly 
resolved  that  his  resting-place  should  no  longer 
be  forgotten  and  unknown  if  she  could  find  and 
place  a  stone  over  it.  The  search  would  be  diffi- 
cult ;  no  one  knew  the  pit  or  ditch  where  he  lay, 
and  there  was  even  a  discouraging  rumor  that 
his  body  had  been  robbed  of  his  uniform  and 
buried  without  any  indication  of  his  rank  or 
name. 

Except  Dick  Eunner  and  Peter  Dennis,  whose 
color  permitted  them  to  be  humane,  she  had  no 
one  to  assist  her  in  her  care  for  her  patient.  She 
must  therefore  take  up  the  search  for  the  officer's 
grave  alone  or  aided  only  by  one  of  these  colored 
men,  while  the  other  was  left  in  charge  of  the 
house.  She  took  Dick  Runner  into  her  confi- 
dence. The  next  day  and  for  several  subsequent 
days  she  left  her  home,  with  the  old  horse  and 
rickety  wagon,  in  the  early  morning,  and  did  not 
return  until  evening.  She  was  sad  and  weary, 
but  not  discouraged.  What  was  she  doing? 
The  answer  should  be  inscribed  in  letters  of  gold 
on  a  monument  more  lasting  than  granite.  For 
this  young  Virginia  matron,  hearing  the  burden 
of  her  own  sorrow,  nursing  a  wounded  man  back 
to  life,  still  found  the  time  and  energy  to  search 
all  over  that  broad  battle-field,  day  after  day,  for 


132  AN   UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 

the  grave  of  a  comparative  stranger.  The  search 
was  long — ^many  would  have  abandoned  it.  But 
Heaven  would  not  permit  such  energy  to  fail  of 
success.  After  many  days  she  found  the  grave 
she  sought.  A  board  had  been  driven  into  the 
earth  at  its  head  on  which  she  was  just  able  to  de- 
cipher the  name  of  her  casual  acquaintance.  But 
the  inscription  was  almost  obliterated.  A  few 
more  storms  and  it  would  have  been  illegible,  and 
the  officer  would  have  slept  forever  among  the 
unknown  dead. 

What  she  saw  would  have  repelled  and  turned 
away  any  man  or  woman  whose  heart  was  not 
brave  and  true.  The  thin  covering  of  earth  which 
had  been  hastily  thrown  over  the  uncoffined  body 
had  been  washed  away  by  the  rains  of  autumn ; 
the  limbs  and  portions  of  the  brave  man's  body 
were  already  exposed,  for  the  dogs  to  gnaw,  the 
carrion  birds  to  peck  at,  and  the  foxes  to  mangle. 
Willingly  did  Dick  Runner,  in  tender  memory  of 
"de  youug  gen'l'man,"  guard  his  body  through 
the  night  and  until  his  watch  was  relieved  next 
day.  At  her  own  cost,  out  of  her  slender  purse 
she  paid  for  a  decent  coffin,  hired  two  laborers 
to  disinter  the  remains,  to  place  them  in  the 
coffin,  remove  them  to  Winchester,  and  there, 
with  the  silent  prayer  of  at  least  one  mourner,  to 
inter  them  in  the  Union  cemetery.  She  placed  a 
suitable  stone  at  their  head  for  their  permanent 
identification. 


THE   BATTLE-FIELDS   OF   WINCHESTER.  133 

Such  conduct  cannot  fail  to  receive  the  com- 
mendation of  all  right-minded  men  and  good 
women.  The  account  is  imperfect  unless  the 
final  result  or  Mrs.  Van  Metre's  reward  is  given. 
I  will  state  it  in  the  words  of  Colonel  Walker  in 
his  "  Vermont  Brigade  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley," 
pubhshed  in  1869: 

"Then  she  addressed  a  letter  to  his  friends, 
giving  them  the  information  which  she  possessed, 
and  they  subsequently  recovered  the  remains, 
thanking  God  and  their  unknown  benefactor." 
It  is  to  be  fervently  hoped  that  they  did  not  fail 
to  acknowledge  and  reward  her  heroic  conduct  as 
she  deserved. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A   SIDE   VIEW   OF    THE   BATTLE    OF    CEDAR   CREEK, 
WITH    "SHERIDAN   TWENTY   MILES   AWAY." 

The  wounded  lieutenant  by  the  middle  of 
October  was  on  the  high-road  to  recovery.  The 
f;:i^thful  service  of  the  country  doctor,  supplies 
from  Harper's  Ferry,  and  careful  nursing  were 
doing  their  efficient  work.  The  longest  pair  of 
crutches  which  the  stores  of  the  Sanitary  Com- 
mission could  furnish  were  ingeniously  length- 
ened by  Peter  Dennis,  and  enabled  Bedell  to  de- 
monstrate that  the  loss  of  his  leg  had  not  deprived 
him  of  the  power  of  locomotion.  He  was  inclined 
to  test  it  by  more  frequent  exercise  in  the  open 
air  than  was  consistent  with  his  personal  safety. 
The  tramp-thieves  were  more  numerous  than 
ever.  They  infested  the  region  and  had  entered 
Mrs.  Van  Metre's  house  a  dozen  times  a  day. 
To  exclude  them  would  excite  their  suspicions 
and  their  cupidity,  and  they  were  too  powerful 
to  be  resisted.  They  were  given  free  access  to 
every  room  in  the  house;  nothing  apparently 
was  concealed  from  them,  and  they  were  finally 
satisfied  to  desist  from  despoiling  a  lonely  woman 

134 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CEDAR  CREEK.       135 

who  had  nothing  useful  to  them  of  which  she 
might  be  robbed.     How  she  evaded  their  vigi-  ' 
lance  and  allayed  their  suspicions  is  simply  in- 
explicable. 

Bedell  now  began  to  suffer  from  another  want. 
Almost  six  w^eeks  had  passed  since  he  was 
wounded.  He  had  no  clothing  except  that  which 
was  on  his  person  when  he  fell.  His  nurse  had 
managed  to  provide  him  with  some  undergar- 
ments much  too  small  for  him,  and  Ginny  had  dis- 
played great  ingenuity  in  washing  and  changing 
them  while  he  slept.  But  now  that  he  wanted  to 
dress  himself  and  take  more  exercise  in  the  open 
air,  he  felt  intensely  the  want  of  a  complete  change 
of  clothing  which  was  not  saturated  with  his 
blood.  His  natural  habits  of  cleanliness  intensi- 
fied this  desire,  and  made  him  almost  reckless  in 
his  determination  to  have  a  new  suit  of  undress 
uniform  or  its  substitute. 

Again  with  excellent  judgment  his  preserver 
considered  the  situation,  decided  that  he  must 
have  his  change  of  clothing,  and  that  the  duty  of 
providing  it  was  cast  upon  herself.  About  twenty 
miles  up  the  valley,  where  Cedar  Creek  winds 
around  the  base  of  "Three  Top  "  and  Masanutten 
Mountains,  was  the  present  camp  of  Sheridan's 
army.  With  it  were  supposed  to  be  the  baggage- 
wagons  of  the  Vermont  brigade.  In  the  wagon 
of  the  Eleventh  Vermont  was  the  lieutenant's 
portmanteau,  or,  as  it  was  commonly  called,  his 


136  AN  UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 

"gripsack,"  which  contained  a  complete  change 
of  clothing  and  many  other  articles  of  which  he 
felt  the  want.  He  was  now  becoming  strong,  he 
was  an  adept  in  the  art  of  concealing  himself, 
and  the  three  colored  persons  were  perfectly  trust- 
worthy. There  was  no  reason  why  she  could  not 
as  safely  leave  him  for  a  trip  to  Cedar  Creek  as 
for  one  of  her  weekly  journeys  to  Harper's  Ferry. 
The  distance  w^as  no  greater,  and  she  could  go 
and  return  with  the  "gripsack"  in  a  single  day. 

By  practice  the  lieutenant  was  able  to  w^rite 
Math  his  left  hand  a  brief  letter  or  order  to  the 
colonel  or  the  quartermaster  of  his  regiment  for 
the  delivery  of  his  clothing  to  the  bearer,  and  to 
sign  it  with  his  name.  It  was  his  first  commu- 
nication to  his  regiment  since  his  fall,  and  the 
letter  also  explained  the  change  in  his  handwrit- 
ing and  the  reason  of  his  absence.  Provided 
with  this  authority,  Mrs.  Van  Metre  again  pro- 
visioned her  patient  against  her  temporary  ab- 
sence; the  old  horse  was  harnessed  to  the  old 
wagon,  which  seemed  to  grow  stronger  with  use, 
and  this  time  accompanied  by  Nannie  Koontz, 
her  young  niece,  the  brave  woman  at  early  dawn 
started  for  the  camjD  at  Cedar  Creek,  not  less 
than  twenty  miles  away. 

She  reached  the  camp  without  misadventure. 
The  officer  of  the  picket  took  her  directly  to  the 
headquarters  of  General  Getty,  who  commanded 
the  division  of  the  Sixth  Corps  to  which  the  Ver- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CEDAR  CREEK.       137 

mont  brigade  was  attached.  To  him  she  de- 
livered her  letter  and  explained  her  errand. 
With  the  speed  of  the  wind  the  rumor  reached 
the  regiment  that  a  messenger  had  arrived  from 
Bedell  and  that  he  was  still  living.  Men  and 
officers  of  the  Eleventh  hurried  to  headquarters 
and,  when  the  rumor  was  confirmed,  demanded 
to  see  the  bearer  of  the  welcome  news.  Without 
any  hesitation  she  came  out  from  the  general's 
tent,  and  to  the  crowd  that  gathered  around  her 
modestly  told  her  extraordinary  story — how  and 
where  she  found  Bedell,  his  neglected  condition, 
his  danger,  and  his  improvement.  Then  she  ex- 
plained her  errand  and  invoked  their  assistance 
in  procuring  the  clothing  for  which  she  had  come. 
How  she  impressed  the  Vermonters  may  he  gath- 
ered from  the  account  written  by  their  Colonel 
Walker  at  the  time : 

"  Our  feelings  of  wonder  and  admiration  were 
most  intense  as  we  learned  from  her  simple  story 
that  our  favorite  v/ho  was  dead  was  alive  again, 
and  felt  how  much  true  heroism  her  modest 
words  concealed.  She  had  plainly  totally  aban- 
doned herself  for  weeks  to  the  care  of  a  suffering 
enemy,  and  yet  she  did  not  seem  to  realize  that 
she  deserved  any  credit  for  so  doing  or  that  every 
woman  would  not  have  done  as  much. "  In  short, 
she  captured  the  affectionate  interest  of  the  whole 
Vermont  brigade. 

The  afternoon  was  drawing   on   before   they 


138  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

would  release  her  from  the  last  of  their  inquiries. 
Then  they  had  to  give  her  the  disappointing  in- 
telligence that  the  baggage-wagon  of  the  Eleventh 
Vermont,  of  which  she  was  in  search,  was  still  at 
Winchester.  But  they  would  not  permit  her  to 
think  of  returning  to  her  home  that  day. 

They  loaded  her  with  the  hearty  attentions  of 
the  camp  and  made  many  preparations  for  her 
return  journey.  The  old  horse  was  well  cared 
for;  a  tent  was  prepared  with  two  beds  for  her- 
self and  niece  to  occupy,  and  everything  was  done 
to  enable  them  to  pass  the  night  in  comfort  and 
security. 

"Here  again,"  she  said  to  the  writer  long 
afterward,  with  the  simplicity  of  a  child,  "it 
seemed  as  if  the  Lord  directed  me.  The  beds 
were  tempting,  we  were  both  weary,  but  I  would 
not  permit  my  niece  to  remove  her  clothing  nor 
did  1  remove  any  part  of  my  own.  Dressed  as 
we  were,  we  lay  upon  our  cots  and  fell  into  a  re- 
freshing sleep.  Just  before  dawn  I  was  awak- 
ened by  the  incessant  howling  of  a  dog.  I  was 
dreadfully  annoyed  and  wondered  why  some  one 
did  not  put  a  stop  to  that  disagreeable  noise.  I 
am  sorry  to  say  that  I  wished  that  dog  was 
dead.  But  his  howling  continued,  and  as  we  could 
neither  of  us  sleep  we  arose,  performed  our  ablu- 
tions, put  on  our  hats,  and  waited  for  daylight. 

"Suddenly  there  was  a  shot — another — and 
then  the  irregular  dropping  fire  which  I  knew 


THE  BATTLE  OP  CEDAR  CREEK.       13-9 

too  well  was  that  of  a  skirmish-line !  Then  the 
curtain  of  the  tent  was  drawn  away  and  a  voice 
said,  'Dress  and  get  ready  as  soon  as  you  can!' 
At  the  same  moment  there  was  the  crash  of  mus- 
ket-firing only  a  short  distance  away.  'We  are 
ready  notv,^  I  said.  The  side  of  the  tent  was 
drawn  away  and  there  stood  our  horse  ready 
harnessed  to  our  v/agon.  An  officer  helped  us 
into  it.  He  said  to  an  orderly,  'Take  this  horse 
by  the  bit,  go  by  a  road'  (which  he  described)  'as 
rapidly  as  you  can.  It  will  bring  you  into  the 
Winchester  pike.  Follow  it — stay  with  these 
ladies  until  you  know  that  they  are  out  of  dan- 
ger. These  are  General  Getty's  orders — there 
is  an  attack  along  our  whole  line!  Now  go!' 
Even  as  he  spoke  the  sound  of  the  shots  almost 
drowned  his  voice  and  the  shells  from  a  battery 
of  artillery  began  to  form  their  curves  over  our 
heads." 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  had  heard  the  opening  guns 
of  the  battle  of  Cedar  Creek,  of  the  19th  of  Octo- 
ber. Defeated  at  Winchester,  crushed  again  at 
Fisher's  Hill,  the  indomitable  veterans  of  Stone- 
wall Jackson's  corps  had  retreated  up  the  valley, 
gathered  in  their  stragglers,  received  some  rein- 
forcement, and  now  had  turned  upon  and  attacked 
their  pursuers.  Sheridan  had  been  summoned  to 
Washington  for  consultation,  and  on  this  morn- 
ing of  October  19th  was  at  Winchester.  Some 
criticism  has  been  expended  upon  him  for  leaving 


140  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

his  army  subject  to  such  an  attack,  especially  as 
a  signal  to  General  Early  had  been  taken  from 
the  Confederate  station  on  Three  Top  Mountain, 
coming  from  Longstreet,  saying,  "Be  ready  to 
move  as  soon  as  my  forces  join  you,  and  we  will 
crush  Sheridan."  If  such  a  signal  was  sent, 
Sheridan  was  right  in  disregarding  it,  for  the 
writer  is  assured  by  Major  More,  of  Early's  staff, 
that  none  of  Longstreet 's  force  joined  Early  in 
the  valley,  and  none  of  them  were  present  in  the 
battle  of  Cedar  Creek.  It  may  as  well  be  con- 
ceded, for  it  is  certainly  true,  that  this  battle 
was  a  remarkable  instance  of  a  defeated  army 
recovering  itself  and  with  slight  reinforcements 
turning  upon  and  surprising  its  victorious  enemy. 
No  soldier  would  have  anticipated  such  an  at- 
tack, which  would  have  been  successful  had  not 
the  jjlunder  of  the  camp  proved  too  tempting  for 
the  hungry  men  by  whom  it  was  captured. 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  had  left  behind  her  all  the 
noise  and  confusion  of  a  surprise. 

"  And  there  was  mounting  in  hot  haste  ;  the  steed, 
The  mustering  squadron  and  the  clattering  car, 
"Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed. 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war  !" 

The  sounds  of  battle  were  not  new  to  her. 
Without  obstruction,  by  a  circuitous  route  which 
took  her  outside  all  the  camps,  she  reached  the 
turnpike  and  was  able  to  plan  her  future  move- 
ments. 


THE   BATTLE  OF   CEDAR  CREEK.  141 

What  was  she  to  do?  She  was  on  the  high- 
road to  Winchester.  From  the  sound  of  the 
firing  over  so  hroad  an  area  in  her  rear,  she  in- 
ferred that  the  attack  was  made  along  the  whole 
line  of  the  Union  army.  If  that  army  was  de- 
feated, the  tiirniDike  would  be  its  line  of  retreat 
and  would  be  crowded  with  fugitives.  She  was 
familiar  with  the  dangers  and  terrors  of  a  retreat. 
If  she  became  involved  in  a  herd  of  panic-stricken 
fugitives,  army  wagons,  and  ambulances,  escape 
would  be  almost  impossible.  If  the  attack  failed 
and  Early's  army  was  driven  up  the  valley,  the 
road  would  be  crowded  with  reinforcements  hur- 
rying in  his  pursuit.  She  could  leave  the  turnpike 
and  by  taking  any  one  of  the  cross-roads  on  her 
right,  get  outside  the  crowd  and  reach  her  home. 
But  then  she  would  not  accomplish  the  object  of 
her  journey.  The  clothing  of  her  patient  was  in 
the  baggage- wagon  of  his  regiment  at  Winches- 
ter, to  which  the  turnpike  led.  To  Winchester 
she  resolved  to  go,  unless  prevented  by  obstacles 
which  she  could  not  overcome. 

The  orderly  sent  to  protect  her  promptly  de- 
cided not  to  neglect  the  opportunity  of  escape' 
afforded  by  her  conveyance.  He  took  the  reins 
and  the  driver's  seat  and  forced  the  old  horse 
over  the  rough  road  at  a  speed  which  threatened 
at  every  step  to  wreck  the  old  wagon.  It  was 
fortunate  that  he  did  so,  for  Ramseur,  Gordon, 
and  Pegram's  division  of  the  Confederate  army 


142  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

had  struck  a  division  of  Crook's  corps  and 
Kitching's  division  so  heavily  that  they  were 
swept  away  Hke  leaves  before  a  storm.  The 
veterans  of  these  divisions  were  for  the  moment 
a  terror-stricken  mob,  that  filled  the  turnpike, 
carried  away  the  Eighth  Vermont  under  brave 
Colonel  Thomas,  placed  across  the  pike  to  arrest 
their  flight,  and  apparently  led  the  army  in  a  mad 
race  for  Winchester. 

As  the  morning  drew  on  Mrs.  Van  Metre  knew 
that  the  battle  had  become  a  defeat.  Louder 
and  louder  swelled  the  roar  of  cannon,  the  rattle 
of  musketry,  and  the  din  of  the  conflict  behind 
her.  Once  or  twice  the  pursuit  seemed  to  be 
checked  for  a  moment,  then  to  be  resumed  with 
the  rush  of  a  furious  storm.  All  over  the  south- 
ern horizon  rose  the  black  smoke  of  battle ;  now 
it  seemed  stationary — now  to  be  coming  nearer. 
Her  new  driver,  in  spite  of  her  remonstrances, 
lashed  the  crippled  horse  into  a  mad  gallop  which 
could  not  long  endure,  in  his  effort  to  keep  in  ad- 
vance of  the  oncoming  crowd  of  fugitives.  But 
it  was  useless:  the  pursuit  was  too  vigorous. 
She  was  overtaken,  surrounded,  overwhelmed  by 
horsemen,  men  on  foot,  yelling  drivers  of  army 
wagons,  from  which  escape  now  seemed  impos- 
sible. 

Here  fortunately  she  was  relieved  of  the  driver. 
He  had  dashed  the  conveyance  over  obstructions 
which  sorely  tested  its  strength,  and  a  repetition 


THE    BATTLE   OF   CEDAR   CREEK.  143 

of  such  experience  would  wreck  it.  He  now  saw 
some  better  means  of  escape  and  promptly  de- 
serted the  woman  he  was  ordered  to  protect. 
She  took  up  the  reins,  and  by  watching  her  op- 
portunity turned  out  of  the  road  and  the  crowd 
and  made  her  way  more  slowly  across  the  fields. 

About  ten  o'clock,  as  she  supposed,  there  was  a 
change.  The  sounds  of  the  battle  no  longer 
seemed  to  advance.  The  smoke  cleared  away, 
the  rattle  of  musketry  was  less  continuous,  the 
stream  of  fugitives  diminished,  the  crowd  passed 
on  and  left  the  turni^ike  almost  clear.  Had  the 
retreat  stopped — the  pursuit  been  checked  ?  She 
determined  to  take  all  the  chances.  If  it  had, 
she  might  still  reach  "Winchester  and  accomplish 
the  object  of  her  journey.  The  turnpike  was 
unobstructed,  and  she  turned  into  it  again. 

The  moment  when  she  came  to  this  conclusion 
was  synchronous  with  another  event  which  de- 
serves mention.  The  Sixth  Corps,  which  at  the 
first  attack  had  formed  in  line  of  battle  and,  as 
other  divisions  had  been  overwhelmed,  had  fallen 
back  about  four  miles,  preserving  its  forma- 
tion, had  now  reached  the  limits  of  its  retreat. 
Wright,  as  brave  a  soldier  as  ever  fought,  was  in 
command.  He  threw  his  corps  square  across  the 
pike,  and  the  Nineteenth  Corps  formed  in  its 
rear.  It  became  a  rock  against  which  the  waves 
of  retreat  dashed  in  vain.     Early's  whole  army 

from  a  commanding  eminence  in   front  opened 
10 


144  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

upon  it  with  musketry  and  artillery.  They 
pounded  Ricketts'  division  for  half  an  hour,  and 
finding  that  they  made  no  impression,  turned  to 
the  more  agreeable  work  of  plundering  the  Union 
camps.  Sheridan  had  good  warrant  for  saying 
in  his  report  in  substance  that  the  Sixth  Corps 
was  the  "only  infantry  that  confronted  the  enemy 
from  the  first  attack  in  the  morning  until  the 
battle  was  decided." 

The  crowd  of  fugitives  had  disappeared.  The 
turnpike  was  clear.  There  was  not  a  man,  an 
army  wagon,  or  a  vehicle  upon  it.  Suddenly 
coming  over  the  next  ascent  appeared  a  moving 
body.  In  the  advance  was  a  horse,  apparently 
without  a  rider.  He  was  followed  by  a  small 
number  of  mounted  men.  All  were  moving  with 
great  speed,  but  the  horse  in  front  seemed  to  be 
gaining  on  the  others.  They  rushed  along  the 
pike  with  the  speed  of  the  wind.  As  they  came 
nearer  to  her,  she  discovered  that  the  foremost 
horse  had  a  rider,  but  he  lay  so  close  along  the 
shoulders  and  neck  of  the  animal  that  he  seemed 
a  part  of  him.  The  head  of  the  horse  projected 
in  a  line  with  his  neck,  the  rider  clinging  to  it  as 
if  he  would  reduce  the  resistance  of  the  air  to  the 
minimum.  The  uniform  rise  and  fall  of  the  bodies 
of  horse  and  rider,  as  regular  as  a  pendulum,  the 
effort  of  both  to  forereach  to  the  last  possible 
inch  with  every  bound,  was  the  perfection  of 
horsemanship,    an  ideal  exhibition  of  muscular 


THE  BATTLE  OF  CEDAR  CREEK.       145 

action.  The  rider  was  a  short  and  rather  a 
heavy  man  who  knew  that  his  horse  was  doing 
his  best.  For  his  heels,  armed  with  sharp  spurs, 
were  turned  outward,  as  if  he  scorned  to  touch 
his  steed  with  their  points,  and  his  reins  laj  loose 
upon  his  horse's  neck.  The  nostrils  of  the  ani- 
mal expanded  with  every  respiration,  and  the 
white  foam  from  them  flecked  his  flanks  or 
spotted  the  uniform  of  his  rider.  Never  were 
horse  and  his  master  more  thoroughly  agreed. 
The  stride  was  gigantic.  The  speed  could  not 
have  been  increased  if  the  fate  of  a  nation  had 
depended  upon  it.  Mrs.  Van  Metre  turned  her 
wagon  aside  from  the  travelled  part  of  the  road 
to  allow  the  cavalcade  to  pass.  With  open 
mouth  and  powerful  respiration,  the  steed  showed 
that  he  was  doing  his  best.  His  companions 
used  every  exertion  to  equal  his  pace.  But  he 
was  rapidly  gaining  and  opening  the  space  be- 
tween them.  As  they  swept  by  the  woman  and 
her  stationary  vehicle  and  rapidly  passed  from 
her  sight,  she  knew  that  the  battle  was  on  and 
that  Sheridan  was  not  many  miles  away ! 

The  noble  animal  with  his  invaluable  burden 
had  not  much  farther  to  go.  Only  two  miles 
farther  to  the  south,  a  brigade  of  Custer's  cavalry 
had  now  been  thrown  across  the  pike  to  intercept 
the  advance  of  the  enemy.  Just  in  their  rear 
General  Getty's  division  of  the  Sixth  Corps  was 
posted  across  and  at  right  angles  to  the  turnpike. 

10 


146  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

It  was  a  perfect  dam  to  the  current  of  flee- 
ing men.  On  their  right  Taylor's  battery 
opened  upon  their  pursuers.  With  the  check, 
confidence  returned,  and  the  fugitives  again 
sought  the  position  of  their  several  commands. 
The  Sixth  Corps,  Taylor's  battery,  and  Torbert's 
cavalry  were  already  in  position — the  tide  of  re- 
treat had  been  turned  when  the  black  steed  and 
his  rider  came  into  their  view,  attended  with  a 
mighty  tempest  of  cheers.  He  swept  along  the 
line  to  the  position  of  General  Wright.  He  saw 
at  a  glance  that  the  chief  of  the  fighting  Sixth 
had  already  turned  the  tide  of  defeat  and  the 
faces  of  his  men  in  the  opposite  direction,  "  I 
am  glad  to  see  j^ou  here,  general!"  was  the 
soldierly  greeting  of  General  Wright.  "By 
Heaven !  I  am  glad  to  be  here !"  was  the  emphatic 
reply  of  the  man  who  was  now  to  pluck  victory 
from  the  very  jaws  of  defeat. 

The  remainder  of  the  battle  of  Cedar  Creek 
was  upon  a  field  far  in  the  rear  of  the  emissary 
of  the  wounded  officer.  Her  way  to  Winchester 
was  now  unobstructed.  How  many  men  v/ould 
have  been  brave  enough  to  follow  it,  with  one  of 
the  great  battles  of  the  century  raging  in  his  rear, 
which  might  at  any  moment  again  overwhelm 
him  in  the  desperate  confusion  of  a  retreat,  when 
by  a  simple  change  of  course  he  might  in  a  short 
time  be  outside  the  danger-line?  This  woman 
thought  only  of  her   errand,  which  was  to   re- 


iHftgc-rsIamt 


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THE   BATTLE   OF   CEDAR   CREEK.  149 

lieve  the  discomforts  of  her  patient.  If  she 
turned  to  the  right  or  left  her  mission  failed. 
She  therefore  kept  straight  on,  and  without  meet- 
ing with  any  farther  actual  obstruction,  about 
one  o'clock  she  reached  Winchester. 

In  some  way,  never  clearly  explained  to  her, 
she  found  that  her  errand  had  been  anticipated. 
Outside  the  town  on  the  turnpike  she  was  met  by 
a  soldier  who  wished  to  know  whether  she  was 
not  in  search  of  the  baggage  of  the  Eleventh 
Vermont  Regiment.  She  admitted  the  fact. 
"Then  come  with  me,"  he  said,  and  took  her  at 
once  to  the  quartermaster  of  the  Vermont  bri- 
gade. Here  her  story  was  accepted  without  ob- 
jection or  question. 

They  would  have  kept  her  at  Winchester  over 
night,  for  the  few  Vermont  boys  whom  she  found 
there  admired  her  simple,  unostentatious  energy. 
But  in  her  quiet  way  she  said  that  Bedell  would  be 
anxious  about  her — he  would  fear  that  she  had 
been  involved  in  the  great  battle  which  had  been 
fought,  and  of  which  she  did  not  then  know  the 
issue.  She  thought  it  would  be  better  if  the 
boys  would  assist  her  in  getting  the  change  of 
clothing  for  their  brother-officer,  and  then  let  her 
go  to  him  and  relieve  his  anxiety. 

To  such  good  sense  and  excellent  judgment  the 
boys  had  no  objection  to  make.  They  procured  the 
"  gripsack"  of  the  lieutenant,  containing  his  new 
uniform.     Then  they  had  a  caucus,  in  which  the 


150  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

agent  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  took  an  active 
part.  A  committee  of  this  caucus  decided  upon 
the  probable  necessities  of  Bedell  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. The  package  was  made  up  (omit- 
ting nothing),  and  after  a  good  feed  for  the  old 
horse  and  an  excellent  lunch  for  the  driver  and 
her  niece,  the  cavalcade  was  ready  to  start  for 
Berryville.  The  conveyance  was  more  liberally 
freighted  than  upon  any  previous  occasion  from 
Harper's  Ferry.  She  had  not  only  secured  the 
desired  change  of  clothing,  but  a  liberal  supply 
of  the  linen  and  underclothing  which  was  so  nec- 
essary to  the  comfort  of  the  convalescing  officer. 

To  the  casual  reader  of  history  this  exposure 
by  a  young  and  inexperienced  woman  to  the 
actual  dangers  of  battle  may  appear  incredible. 
One  would  suppose  that,  terror-stricken  by  the 
actual  peril  to  life,  she  would  seek  every  opportu- 
nity to  escape  and  to  place  herself  outside  its 
dangers.  But  it  is  one  of  the  merciful  compen- 
sations of  war  that  it  suppresses  personal  fear,  and 
that  those  who  are  within  the  range  of  its  ter- 
rible missiles  accept  the  situation  as  a  necessity. 

I  cannot  better  illustrate  the  fearlessness  of  this 
woman  in  accomplishing  her  object  on  the  day 
when  she  knew  a  great  battle  was  being  fought, 
which  might  at  any  moment  overwhelm  her,  than 
by  an  account  of  an  incident  which  I  myself  saw, 
and  for  the  accuracy  of  which  I  am  willing  to  be 
held  responsible. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   CEDAR   CREEK.  151 

When  General  Early  attempted  to  capture 
Washington  by  a  surprise  in  July,  1864,  it  was 
necessary  to  connect  the  forts  by  which  it  was  de- 
fended by  earthworks.  Forts  Stevens  and  Eeno, 
on  either  side  of  the  extension  of  Seventh  Street, 
w^ere  connected  by  a  ditch  and  corresponding 
earthworks.  In  their  construction  it  became 
necessary  to  destroy  several  small  dwellings  and 
to  remove  their  occupants  w^ith  their  household 
goods.  One  of  these  dwellings  was  occupied  by 
a  colored  family,  another  by  an  immigrant  from 
the  Emerald  Isle,  both  having  large  families  of 
children.  Their  furniture  was  removed  into  the 
street  or  highway  on  the  crest  of  the  hill,  just 
where  it  was  supposed  the  attacking  force  would 
attempt  to  enter  the  city.  The  officer  in  com- 
mand, aware  that  they  would  be  under  fire,  urged 
the  heads  of  these  families  to  retire  to  a  less  ex- 
posed position  under  the  hill,  where  he  offered  to 
carry  their  household  goods.  They  would  not 
consent.  In  the  afternoon  the  attack  was  made. 
Shells  were  sent  screaming  over  the  place  and  the 
air  was  humming  with  the  sound  of  minie-balls. 
Singularly  enough  the  two  families  appeared 
to  fraternize.  The  children  were  playing,  the 
mothers  attempting  to  cook  their  food  by  an  open 
fire  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  while  the  masters 
of  the  two  households,  extended  on  the  ground, 
contentedly  smoked  their  pipes  as  unconcerned  as 
if  the  missiles  of  death  which  filled  the  air  above 


152  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

them  had  been  the  notes  of  innocent  singing- 
birds.  Neither  of  these  famiUes  could  be  induced 
to  withdraw  to  a  place  of  safety,  because  if  they 
did  they  might  become  separated  from  and  lose 
their  little  household  furniture.  There  they  re- 
mained while  the  fierce  cannonading  hurled  its 
missiles  above  their  heads,  and  I  believe  ulti- 
mately escaped  all  injury. 

Some  insensi'bility  to  danger  of  this  kind  must 
have  protected  this  brave  woman  on  that  fearful 
day.  From  the  early  morning  when  she  left  the 
camp  at  Cedar  Creek  until  nightfall  when  the 
cavalry  of  Custer  had  driven  the  attacking  army 
up  the  valley  toward  Strasburg,  there  was  not 
an  hour — no,  not  a  moment — when  she  was  not 
within  ear-shot  of  the  roar  and  the  dangers  of  a 
great  battle  which  might  at  any  moment  over- 
take and  overwhelm  her.  Yet  she  kept  straight 
on,  turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left,  not 
for  one  moment  losing  sight  of  the  object  of  her 
journey. 

At  Winchester  she  accomplished  it,  and  in  the 
early  evening  reached  her  home  in  Berryville, 
where  she  found  her  patient  delighted  with  her 
success,  which  so  much  contributed  to  his  com- 
fort, but  more  disposed  to  render  thanks  to  the 
Almighty  for  her  protection  and  deliverance  from 
the  perils  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  TERRIBLE  HARVEST  OF  WAR — THE  PREPA- 
RATION FOR  THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  WOUNDED 
OFFICER. 

The  conduct  of  General  Sheridan  in  destroying 
the  military  value  of  the  region  in  his  last  cam- 
paign, and  his  burning  of  dwelling-houses  in 
some  instances,  have  been  severely  criticised  and 
have  presented  an  interesting  subject  of  inquiry, 
some  of  the  results  of  which  will  be  here  given. 

General  Sheridan  was  ordered  to  act  under  the 
instructions  given  by  Lieutenant-General  Grant 
to  General  Hunter  on  the  4th  of  August,  1864, 
by  which  he  was  directed  to  "take  all  provisions, 
forage,  and  stock  wanted  for  the  use  of  your 
command.  Such  as  cannot  be  consumed,  destroy. 
It  is  not  desirable  that  dwellings  should  be  de- 
stroyed, they  should  rather  be  protected,  but  the 
people  should  be  informed  that  so  long  as  an 
enemy  can  subsist  among  them,  recurrences  of 
these  raids  must  be  expected,  and  we  are  deter- 
mined to  stop  them  at  all  hazards." 

"When  Sheridan  left  the  valley  for  the  last 
time,  he  reports  that  he  "commenced  moving 
back,  stretching   the   cavalry  across  the  valley, 

153 


154  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

from  the  Blue  Eidge  to  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
Allegh allies,  with  directions  to  burn  all  forage 
and  drive  off  all  the  stock,  etc.,  as  they  moved 
to  the  rear,  fully  coinciding  in  the  views  and 
instructions  of  the  lieutenant-general,  that  the 
valley  should  be  made  a  barren  waste.  The  most 
positive  orders  were  given,  however,  not  to  burn 
dwellings." 

He  declares  that  "  the  whole  country  from  the 
Blue  Ridge  to  the  North  Mountain  has  been  made 
untenantable  for  a  rebel  army.  I  have  destroyed 
over  two  thousand  barns  filled  with  wheat  and 
hay  and  farming  implements;  over  seventy  mills 
filled  with  flour  and  wheat ;  have  driven  in  front 
of  the  army  over  four  thousand  head  of  stock, 
and  have  killed  and  issued  to  the  troops  not  less 
than  three  thousand  sheep." 

He  sometimes  exceeded  his  instructions  as  to 
burning  dwellings,  of  which  he  gives  the  follow- 
ing instance:  ''Lieutenant  John  R.  Meigs,  my 
engineer  officer,  was  murdered  beyond  Harrison- 
burg, near  Dayton.  For  this  atrocious  act,  all 
the  houses  within  an  area  of  five  miles  were 
burned.  Since  I  came  into  the  valley  from  Har- 
per's Ferry,  exevj  train,  every  small  party,  and 
every  straggler  has  been  bushwhacked  by  the 
people,  many  of  whom  have  protection  papers 
from  commanders  who  have  been  hitherto  in  the 
valley." 

It  would  be  extremely  satisfactory  if  all  the 


THE    TERRIBLE    HARVEST    OF   WAR.  155 

murders  in  the  valley  could  be  fastened  upon  the 
vagabonds  who  recognized  no  lawful  authority. 
But  the  evidence  is  conclusive  that  Mosby  on  one 
occasion  ordered  seven  Union  prisoners  to  be 
hung.  One  of  them  escaped  by  killing  his  guard, 
another  got  fiway  in  the  darkness,  and  five  were 
executed.  Beyond  this  the  evidence  fails  to  affix 
the  guilt  of  murder  on  any  Confederate  author- 
ity. That  the  old  men  who  were  exempts  from 
the  draft  should  be  guilty  of  such  crimes  is  ex- 
tremely improbable.  When  the  outlaws  were  so 
numerous  that  they  infested  every  ravine  and 
murdered  every  straggler,  there  was  certainly  no 
occasion  for  attributing  such  horrible  crimes  ex- 
cept to  those  who  were  always  ready  to  commit 
them. 

It  was  unquestionably  true  that  every  one  who 
wore  the  Federal  uniform,  if  separated  from  his 
regiment,  carried  his  life  in  his  hands.  Colonel 
Toles,  chief  quartermaster  of  the  Sixth  Corps, 
and  Captain  Buchanan,  commissary  of  the  Second 
Division  of  that  corps,  were  both  murdered  near 
Berry ville,  and  such  murders  were  too  common 
to  excite  discussion. 

Whoever  may  have  been  responsible  for  the 
existing  lawlessness,  the  danger  of  the  convales- 
cent officer  was  constant  and  very  serious.  His 
wounds  were  slowly  healing  and  his  long  confine- 
ment became  irksome  and  finally  intolerable.  He 
knew  that  for  him  discovery  was  death,  and  yet 


156  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

his  desire  for  exercise  in  the  open  air  became 
so  overpowering  that  he  insisted  upon  it  at  any 
risk.  The  weekly  trips  to  Harper's  Ferry  began 
to  excite  discussion,  and  the  demands  of  the  ven- 
erable topers  for  whiskey  became  so  exorbitant 
that  the  Sanitary  Commission  threatened  to  re- 
pudiate them  altogether. 

As  his  improvement  continued  and  he  felt  his 
former  strength  returning,  Bedell  experienced  an 
attack  of  another  disease  to  which  the  sons  of 
the  mountains  are  peculiarly  susceptible.  The 
doctor  said  its  scientific  name  was  nostalgia,  but 
he  preferred  the  good  old-fashioned  name  of 
homesickness.  In  some  cases  it  might  be  ridi- 
culed as  a  disease  of  the  imagination,  but  cases 
had  occurred  in  the  Vermont  brigade  where  it 
had  had  a  fatal  termination.  In  Bedell's  case 
the  attack  was  severe.  His  longing  for  his  home, 
his  wife,  and  his  family  became  irresistible. 
It  deprived  him  of  his  sleep  by  night  and  of  his 
comfort  by  day.  There  was  only  one  cure  for  it. 
He  must  be  sent  home.  If  not  assisted  he  would 
undertake  the  journey  at  any  risk.  Again  his 
nurse  determined  to  accomplish  his  cure  and  to 
make  it  as  free  as  possible  from  danger. 

As  the  lieutenant  lay  upon  his  bed  or  was  bol- 
stered up  in  an  easy-chair  in  her  room,  which  she 
had  surrendered  for  his  use,  and  when  the  whole 
household  were  devoted  to  his  care,  he  began  to 
reproach  himself  for  his  selfishness  and  to  think 


THE    TEREIBLE    HARVEST    OF    WAR.  157 

that  it  was  high  time  that  he  gave  some  thought 
to  the  troubles  of  his  benefactress.  He  deter- 
mined that  in  this  respect  his  conduct  should  be 
promptly  reformed.  Now,  as  he  watched  her  and 
appreciated  the  sorrowful,  far-away  look  upon  her 
face,  he  knew  that  one  who  vv  as  dear  to  her  was 
constantly  in  her  thoughts,  and  he  suspected  that 
her  exertions  in  his  own  behalf  might  be  inspired 
by  the  hope  that  they  would  in  some  way  benefit 
her  husband  and  promote  his  release.  It  was 
clear  to  him  now  that  her  active  mind  sought 
constant  employment,  for  if  it  was  occupied  by  her 
own  anxieties  she  would  sink  under  the  burden. 
She  had  given  some  information  about  her  hus- 
band when  he  told  her  of  his  dream,  but  it  was 
very  indefinite.  Very  gently  now  he  made  far- 
ther inquiries  about  him.  Then  he  knew  how 
true  a  woman  his  preserver  was,  for  her  emotions 
overcame  her  and  she  sought  relief  in  giving  way 
to  them.  He  persisted  in  his  inquiries.  He  drew 
from  her  that,  although  not  a  voluminous  corre- 
spondent, her  husband  had  not  failed  to  write  her 
a  brief  note  every  week  since  he  entered  the  army. 
But  since  his  reported  capture  in  May  she  had  had 
no  news  of  him.  Nothing,  she  feared,  but  death, 
or  sickness  that  was  very  near  to  death,  could  ac- 
count for  his  silence.  Her  anxieties  had  increased 
with  time,  and  now  when  she  gaA^e  her  confidence 
to  the  man  she  had  saved,  she  had  to  confess 
that  she  sorrowed  almost  as  one  without  hope. 


158  AN    UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

Her  grateful  patient  attempted  and  did  not 
wholly  fail  to  comfort  her.  He  referred  to  his 
singular  dream,  and  while  he  again  disclaimed 
all  belief  in  dreams,  he  still  maintained  that  it 
might  be  a  Providential  intimation  that  her  hus- 
band was  living — that  he  had  been  ill,  but  was 
now  in  good  hands,  which  would  account  for  his 
silence. 

That  same  night  as  he  lay  upon  her  bed  and 
thought  of  his  own  wife,  his  home,  his  sufferings, 
and  all  that  this  wife  of  his  enemy  had  done  for 
him,  he  registered  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  a 
solemn  resolution  that  when  once  again  under 
the  protection  of  the  national  flag,  before  he  went 
to  his  own  home,  before  he  did  anything  for  him- 
self, he  would  find  her  husband  and  restore  him 
to  her  arms.  Nor  did  this  resolution  ever  weaken, 
as  we  shall  see  in  the  sequel,  until  the  desired  re- 
sult had  been  accomplished. 

This  point  settled,  he  devoted  himself  to  the 
problem  of  reaching  Harper's  Ferry.  Both 
armies  having  been  withdrawn,  there  was  no 
longer  any  protection  for  property  or  life.  The 
lawless  element  ranged  over  the  country  at  will. 
The  wretches  who  now  came  out  of  their  dens  in 
increased  numbers  have  already  been  described. 
They  belonged  to  neither  army — they  robbed 
Unionist  and  Confederate  with  equal  impartiality 
— they  were  literally  the  enemies  of  the  human 
race.     Any  one  might  shoot   one   of  them  with 


THE   TERRIBLE   HARVEST   OF   WAR.  J  59 

perfect  confidence  that  he  was  doing  justice  to  a 
murderer.  Every  man's  nand  was  against  them ; 
cold-blooded  murder  was  their  commonest  crime. 

They  were  so  numerous  that  scores  of  them 
ranged  through  Berryville  daily.  There  was  no 
day  when  some  of  them  did  not  visit  the  house 
where  the  wounded  officer  was  secreted,  for  by 
some  means  thsyhad  been  informed  that  a  Union 
soldier  was  somewhere  about  the  premises.  On 
one  occasion  they  came  upon  Mrs.  Van  Metre  un- 
awares, and  the  lieutenant  was  saved  only  by  her 
boldness.  This  time  they  insisted  upon  search- 
ing her  room.  "Search  it!"  she  said,  "if  you 
are  indecent  enough  to  invade  the  privacy  of  a 
woman."  And  she  threw  the  door  wide  open. 
They  took  a  hasty  look  inside  and  went  away. 
" I  knew, "  she  said,  "that  the  lieutenant  would 
conceal  himself  as  well  as  he  could  when  he  heard 
my  voice.  He  was  standing  behind  the  door  with 
a  revolver  in  his  hand  as  it  was  thrown  open." 

For  a  man  of  his  conspicuous  size,  with  only 

one  leg,  to  make  his  way  in  safety  to  Harper's 

Ferry  was  a  problem  very  difficult  of  solution. 

While  he  was  revolving  it  in  his  mind,  one  of  the 

patriarchs  whose  secrecy  had  been  secured  in  the 

manner  already  stated,  came  to  him  under   the 

burden  of  a  great  sorrow.     He  had  a  favorite  pair 

of  mules  which  were  very  dear  to  his  acquisitive 

soul.     They  had  been  in  great  jDeril  every  time 

the  sharp-toothed  rake  of  war,  in  Federal  or  Con- 
11 


160  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

federate  hands,  had  harrowed  the  valley.  But 
with  great  caution  he  had  always  managed  to 
save  them  from  capture  until  now.  When  Sher- 
idan decided  to  leave  the  valley,  he  determined 
not  to  leave  behind  him  an  animal  that  could 
draw  a  load  or  feed  a  soldier.  None  so  useful  as 
a  mule  could  escape  the  quest  of  his  troopers. 
The  old  farmer's  mules  were  discovered,  dragged 
from  the  hiding-place  which  had  so  many  times 
effectually  secreted  them,  and  their  owner's  heart 
was  broken. 

He  had  given  up  all  hope  of  recovering  them, 
and  was  trying  to  reconcile  himself  to  their  loss 
by  the  excessive  absorption  of  sanitary  stimu- 
lants, when  through  the  mysterious  communica- 
tions of  the  colored  people  with  each  other  the 
old  farmer  learned  that  his  mules  were  in  the 
corral  at  Martinsburg.  Changes  in  the  position 
of  the  Union  army  had  made  Martinsburg  in- 
stead of  Harper's  Ferry  its  base  of  supplies,  and 
all  the  animals  brought  in  by  the  last  Sheridan 
drag-net  had  been  collected  there.  With  many 
sorrowful  expressions  the  old  farmer  bewailed 
the  loss  of  his  beloved  animals.  He  repeated  the 
story  so  many  times  that  Bedell  came  to  detest 
the  very  name  of  the  species.  He  could  not  give 
the  owner  any  relief  nor  could  he  prevent  the 
constant  repetition  of  the  story.  When  finally 
it  became  obvious  that  the  stricken  mourner 
would  pay  any  price  within  his  means  or  do  any- 


THE    TERRIBLE    HARVEST    OP   WAi..  161 

thing  in  his  power  to  secure  the  return  of  his 
mules,  the  Heutenant  began  to  consider  whether 
he  could  not  in  some  way  make  the  situation 
available  for  his  own  escape.  One  day  when  the 
owner  was  bemoaning  his  loss  for  the  hundredth 
time,  Bedell  ventured  the  cautious  intimation 
that  if  he  were  safely  delivered  within  the  Union 
lines  at  Harper's  Ferry,  it  was  just  possible  that 
an  exchange  might  be  effected  of  his  own  crip- 
pled body  for  the  coveted  animals.  No  trout  ever 
leaped  for  a  fly,  no  son  of  Abraham  ever  pounced 
upon  a  shekel,  with  greater  avidity  than  the 
mule-owner  did  upon  the  intimation.  Bedell  had 
no  more  authority  to  contract  for  the  surrender 
of  these  animals  than  Satan  had  to  trade  off  the 
earth  from  the  top  of  a  high  mountain.  But  he 
decided  to  take  the  risk  of  making  the  contract 
and  of  procuring  his  authority  afterward.  The 
impatience  of  the  other  party  was  too  great  to  be 
restrained  by  a  matter  so  insignificant  as  want  of 
authority.  He  insisted  upon  closing  the  bargain 
at  once — upon  commencing  the  work  of  prejDara- 
tion  that  night,  and  it  was  only  with  great  diffi- 
culty that  Bedell  could  induce  him  to  postpone 
the  arrangements  for  the  time  indispensable  for 
careful  precautions. 

His  first  necessity  was  the  co-operation  of  his 
hostess  and  preserver.  As  the  shades  of  that 
evening  were  beginning  to  fall,  while  the  active 
woman   was   moving   about   the   room,   putting 


162  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

everything  in  its  place  for  the  night,  he  said 
abruptly : 

"  I  think  I  have  a  plan  by  which  I  can  reach 
Harper's  Ferry!" 

The  announcement  disturbed  her.  When  she 
spoke  after  some  hesitation,  her  cheerful  voice  was 
obviously  the  result  of  a  strong  effort  to  control 
herself.  "I  ought  to  congratulate  you,"  she  re- 
plied, "  and  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  what  you  say. 
You  have  been  such  a  sufferer  here,  you  must  so 
long  to  see  your  wife  and  children,  that  I  am  al- 
most as  glad  as  you  are  that  you  are  soon  to  be 
with  them.  But  it  will  be  lonely  here  when  you 
are  gone.  You  have  given  me  so  much  to  do  and 
think  about  that  I  must  say  I  shall  miss  you 
very  much." 

"Mrs.  Van  Metre, "he  said,  "when  I  leave  this 
place  you  will  leave  it  with  me.  Only  one  thing 
could  induce  me  to  go  without  you.  I  would  if  I 
could  leave  you  with  your  husband.  That  we 
cannot  hope  for  now.  I  have  been  selfish,  looking 
only  to  my  own  troubles,  quite  long  enough.  I 
wish  now  to  prove  that  I  am  not  altogether  un- 
grateful. I  will  not  leave  you  here,  exposed  to  in- 
creasing dangers.  I  want  you  to  say  now  that 
if  I  decide  to  attempt  to  reach  Harper's  Ferry 
you  and  your  niece  will  go  with  me.  From 
that  place  we  will  go  and  find  your  husband." 

"I  do  not  think  I  can  say  that.  A  true  wife 
should  never  leave  her  husband's  home  without 


THE   TERRIBLE   HARVEST   OF   WAR.  1G3 

his   consent.     When   he   returns   she  should  he 
there  to  welcome  him." 

"But  he  cannot  return.  He  is  a  prisoner. 
Madam!"  he  said  very  earnestly,  "in  that 
dreary  room  from  which  you  took  me  I  have 
suffered  fearfully.  There  have  been  many  hours 
when  I  was  near  to  death.  At  times  I  have 
feared  that  I  was  losing  my  mind.  Once,  as  you 
know,  I  thought  I  had  seen  your  husband.  That 
was  unreal,  but  I  cannot  resist  the  conviction 
that  he  lives,  that  he  will  only  be  found  after  a 
long  and  difficult  search.  But  for  you  I  should 
now  be  in  my  grave.  Shall  I  now  leave  you 
when  I  can  assist  you  in  the  search  for  your 
husband?  I  can  find  him.  I  know  I  can  find 
him.  I  do  not  know  that  any  one  else  can.  No, 
I  shall  not  leave  you!  And  what  nobler  duty 
can  there  be  for  a  true  wife  than  to  go  with  me 
to  search  for  her  husband?" 

"Heaven  forgive  me!"  she  said  plaintively, 
"  for  I  scarcely  know  what  to  do.  Your  words 
are  very  convincing,  yet  I  am  not  certain  where 
my  duty  lies.  I  must  think  of  matters  which  you 
will  not  consider.  There  have  been  those  who 
are  base  enough  to  say  that  my  care  for  you 
involves  disloyalty  to  my  husband  and  to  the 
cause  in  which  he  has  enlisted." 

"Do  not  wound  your  true  heart  or  sully  the 
lustre  of  your  noble  deed  by  any  reference  to 
such  wretches,"  he  exclaimed.     "You  know  that 


164  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE, 

I  respect  you  as  I  do  the  memory  of  my  mother. 
I  know  that  your  heart  is  as  pure  as  a  diamond. 
Enemies  shall  not  come  between  us  to  destroy 
our  ability  to  assist  each  other.  You  must  let 
me  decide  for  you!" 

"I  cannot,  I  dare  not  now!     Give  me  until  to- 
morrow morning  to  pray  God  for  his  direction." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE   ESCAPE. 

The  plan  of  the  escape  matured  before  the 
final  decision  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  and  was  the 
combined  invention  of  the  officer,  the  old  farmer, 
and  Uncle  Dick.  Secrecy  was  now  more  impor- 
tant than  before.  The  old  recipients  of  the  chief 
stimulant  would  not  be  provided  with  it  when 
the  patient  had  left  and  were  rather  interested 
in  his  detention.  It  had  been  difficult  to  restrain 
their  gossip  in  the  past.  It  would  be  more  diffi- 
cult if  it  involved  his  departure.  The  plan  must 
be  kept  from  their  knowledge  as  completely  as 
from  that  of  the  tramps  who  infested  the  valley. 

Mysterious  sounds  during  the  night  now  be- 
came common  in  the  stable  of  the  Van  Metre 
homestead.  It  was  kept  carefully  locked  under 
Uncle  Dick's  exclusive  control.  A  second  horse, 
a  good  match  for  the  spavined  Rosinante,  came 
to  keep  him  company.  Wheels,  whiffletrees,  and 
other  parts  of  a  two-horse  farm  wagon  and  of 
a  double  harness  were  collected  there.  In  the 
course  of  two  or  three  days  a  substantial  w^agon 
was  constructed,  strong  enough  to  carry  a  load 
to  Harper's  Ferry  over  roads,  now  in  November, 

165 


166  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

worse  than  ever.  From  different  contributors  a 
ton  or  more  of  hay,  enough  for  the  load,  was 
secured.  A  crate  over  six  feet  long,  in  which 
crockery  had  been  imported,  was  procured,  open- 
ings were  made  on  its  four  sides  for  ventilation 
and  defence,  and  then  Uncle  Dick  announced  that 
the  ship  of  the  valley  was  ready  to  receive 
cargo. 

The  straw  mattress  was  to  be  laid  upon  the  bot- 
tom of  the  wagon  with  a  Winchester  rifle,  revol- 
ver, and  cartridges.  On  the  mattress  was  to  be 
placed  the  officer.  The  crate  was  then  to  be  put 
over  him,  and  with  its  contents  firmly  bound  to 
the  body  of  the  wagon.  The  lieutenant  could  lie 
extended  or  sit  up,  and  from  the  forward  end  and 
two  side  openings  get  a  view  of  more  than  one- 
half  the  horizon.  The  openings  from  the  crate 
were  to  be  loosely  covered  by  the  hay  and  so  con- 
cealed from  observation.  In  the  event  of  an  at- 
tack, the  obstructions  to  sight  could  be  readily 
removed  from  the  inside. 

It  was  the  cautious  old  colored  man  who  had 
insisted  upon  these  defensive  preparations.  In 
one  of  the  mysterious  ways  known  only  to  those 
of  his  own  color,  the  jDarticulars  of  which  he 
would  not  disclose,  he  had  become  satisfied  that 
an  attack  would  be  made  by  a  party  of  not  more 
than  two  or  three  persons,  who  were  on  the 
watch  and  who  had  kept  the  opportunity  to 
themselves  in  order  to  secure  larger  shares  in  the 


THE   ESCAPE.  1G7 

booty.  Bedell  had  tested  his  fidelity  too  thor- 
oughly now  to  disregard  his  counsels. 

The  arguments  of  her  patient  finally  jDrevailed, 
and  with  some  misgivings  Mrs.  Van  Metre  de- 
cided that  herself  and  niece  w^ould  accompany 
Bedell  and  share  the  dangers  of  his  attempt  to 
reach  Harper's  Ferry.  She  had  few  preparations 
to  make — they  could  take  nothing  with  them 
— the  slightest  suspicion  of  their  purpose  would 
be  fatal  to  its  success.  It  was  after  midnight 
when  the  officer  was  laid  upon  the  mattress 
with  his  fire-arms  and  crutches  by  his  side.  The 
crate  was  laid  over  him  and  its  openings  were 
carefully  arranged.  The  whole  load  was  firmly 
secured  to  the  wagon,  which  was  then  piled  up 
with  its  ton's  weight  of  hay,  A  binder  pole 
of  hickory  over  the  top,  lashed  to  the  axletrees 
at  either  end,  held  the  load  firmly  in  its  place. 

The  old  farmer  had  allowed  the  rumor  to  get 
abroad  that  on  a  certain  day  he  intended  to  go 
with  a  load  of  hay  by  an  unfrequented  route  to 
a  place  of  contraband  trade  not  far  from  Harper's 
Ferry,  where,  if  he  was  favored  by  fortune,  he 
would  exchange  his  forage  for  a  goodly  quantity 
of  that  liquid  comfort  now  so  much  jDrized  by 
himself  and  his  non-combatant  neighbors.  In 
this  manner  an  interest  in  the  success  of  his  ex- 
pedition was  excited,  so  general  that  the  veterans 
could  not  suppress  their  hopeful  anticipations,  and 
they  came  very  near  to  wrecking  the  enterprise. 


168  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

The  preparations  were  perfected  with  all  the 
skill  of  the  united  judgment  of  all  the  persons 
interested;  the  load  made  up;  the  unmatched 
horses  harnessed  and  secured  to  it;  and  Uncle 
Dick  by  the  aid  of  a  ladder  assisted  his  mistress 
and  her  niece  to  the  seat  arranged  for  them  on 
the  top  and  carefully  laid  an  army  blanket  over 
them. 

Then  there  was  a  touching  separation  between 
the  mistress  and  her  servant.  "Dick!"  she  said 
as  with  her  taper  fingers  she  clasped  his  great 
horny  hand,  "you  and  Ginny  have  been  devoted 
to  me  ever  since  our  troubles  began.  It  does  not 
look  now  as  if  I  should  ever  be  able  to  repay 
you.  If  I  cannot,  I  am  certain  that  such  fidelity 
as  yours  will  be  rewarded  in  heaven." 

"Chile!"  exclaimed  the  negro,  "now  don't 
you  go  on  talking  dat  way,  and  make  yo'  old 
uncle  feel  bad  jis  when  he  wants  all  his  jjluck. 
Co'se  we  done  for  yo' — yo'  was  all  the  friend  we 
had.  But  we's  no  time  now  to  talk  about  dem 
tings.  We  know  massa  is  in  trouble.  Dere  is 
jis  one  man  who  can  find  him  an'  help  him.  He 
is  a  good  man.  I  hear  him  say  in  his  sleep,  he 
would  give  his  other  leg  if  he  could  bring  Massa 
Van  Metre  back  to  yo'.  Now  de  last  words  of 
ole  Dick  is,  'Yo'  stick  by  de  Union  officer — yo' 
take  his  'vice,  and  when  yo'  come  back  to  Berry- 
ville  yo'  goin'  to  bring  Massa  Van  Metre  wid 
yo'.'" 


THE   ESCAPE.  169 

"I  believe  you  are  right,  Dick.  I  will  follow 
your  advice.     Good-by!     God  bless  you!" 

The  driver  was  now  in  his  place  just  in  front  of 
his  two  passengers.  The  stable-door  was  opened ; 
the  team  and  its  load  emerged  from  the  stable 
and  turned  into  the  road  leading  northward. 
The  north  star  out  of  the  depths  of  the  blue  sky 
shone  in  her  face.  Farther  east  beyond  a  peak 
of  the  Blue  Eidge,  a  spike  of  crimson  flame  shot 
up  toward  the  zenith.  The  solitary  surviving 
tenant  of  her  poultry-yard  greeted  her  with  a 
burst  from  his  clarion.  Tiny  thrushes  all  along 
the  wooded  road  seemed  to  invite  her  forward  by 
their  varied  morning  song.  Her  heart  rose  at 
the  sound.  All  nature  seemed  to  urge  her  for- 
ward and  to  say  to  her:  "As  nothing  so  graces 
the  true  American  woman  as  mercy  and  relief 
for  the  suffering  foe  or  friend,  so  nowhere  is  all 
that  a  true  woman  holds  priceless  safer  than 
under  the  protection  of  the  gentleman  who  wears 
the  American  uniform,  whether  it  be  blue  or 
gray." 

And  now  the  farmer  manages  the  reins  with 
a  full  sense  of  his  responsibility  for  the  safety  of 
his  passengers  and  freight ;  the  old  horses  seem 
inspired  by  a  new  energy,  and  all  feel  that 
every  step  in  advance  is  a  step  toward  safety. 
Over  every  rough  piece  of  road  the  horses  care- 
fully pick  their  way ;  when  the  road  is  smooth 
they  strike  into  a  lively  trot,  and  before  mid-day 


170  AN   UNKNOWN  HEROINE, 

nearly  the  whole  route  is  covered  and  the  spires 
of  Harper's  Ferry  are  just  visible  in  the  distance. 

But  their  escape  was  not  yet  assured.  Out  of 
the  nettle  of  a  great  danger  they  had  still  to 
pluck  the  flower  safety.  Within  a  half -hour  of 
the  end  of  their  journey  the  road  descended  into  a 
ravine  nearly  a  mile  in  length,  darkened  by  rocks 
and  trees.  In  the  darkest  part  of  this  defile,  two 
horsemen  suddenly  descended  upon  them  from 
among  the  rocks  by  the  roadside  and  ordered  the 
driver  to  halt.  They  were  young  men,  not  more 
than  twenty-five ;  they  wore  no  uniform,  but  a 
glance  told  the  brave  woman  that  they  were  of 
the  worst  class  of  camp-followers,  as  cold  as  any 
Indian  to  whom  the  torture  and  murder  of  his 
wounded  captive  is  a  pleasure. 

And  the  old  farmer  knew  their  faces.  Orig- 
inally thugs  from  Baltimore,  they  had  enlisted  and 
deserted  from  both  armies,  and  were  under  sen- 
tence of  death  by  a  court-martial  for  murdering 
the  wounded  at  the  first  battle  of  Winchester. 
By  the  treachery  of  one  of  their  guards,  they  had 
been  able  to  murder  two  others  and  escape  to  the 
mountains.  They  were  the  men  of  whom  Dick 
had  been  warned.  They  had  kept  close  watch, 
and  mounted  on  fleet  horses  had  waited  until  the- 
team  had  selected  its  road,  and  then  by  fast  rid- 
ing over  another  road  had  jDassed  them  and  ar- 
ranged this  ambush. 

"What  fer  do  you  want  to  stop  me  on  the 


THE  ESCAPE.  171 

highway?"  asked  the  old  farmer.  "I  am  going 
to  sell  a  load  of  truck,  good  for  nothing  to  you, 
but  might  keep  my  folks  from  going  hungry. 
Let  me  alone  to  go  my  way,"  he  said,  and  with  a 
cool  eye  to  future  proceedings  he,  as  if  by  acci- 
dent, swung  his  team  partially  across  and  in  the 
line  of  the  road. 

"  Not  much !"  said  one  of  the  brutes,  who  stood 
opposite  tlie  seat  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  while  the 
other  caught  the  horses  by  the  head  and  stopped 
them.  "We  know  all  about  you,"  he  continued. 
"  We  have  watched  you  for  a  week.  You've  got 
a  Union  officer  under  that  hay.  Maybe  he'll  live, 
if  he's  got  greenbacks  enough  about  his  clothes. 
You,  madam,  have  got  money  and  things  worth 
money  on  your  person.  We  want  the  money  and 
the  man.  Will  you  give  them  up  without  a 
fuss?" 

"  Gentlemen, "  said  the  lady  very  gently,  "  you 
are  Americans,  I  hope,  and  gentlemen.  I  am 
going  after  my  husband,  who  is  a  jDrisoner.  I 
have  but  a  very  little  money.  I  am  a  helpless 
woman.  Will  you  not  let  me  pass,  with  the  lit- 
tle that  is  left  to  us?" 

She  might  as  well  have  appealed  to  cannibals, 
pirates,  or  hungry  tigers  of  the  jungle.  "Now 
dry  up  an'  get  off' n  that  load,"  said  the  wretch. 
"We  don't  care  shucks  for  your  husband  or  your 
lover  under  the  hay.  We  want  your  money  an' 
your  trinkets.     Give  them  to  me  before  I  strijD 


172  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

'em  off!"  And  the  wretch  seized  her  by  the  arm 
and  was  about  to  tear  her  to  the  ground. 

There  was  the  crack  of  a  revolver.  The  grasp 
of  the  brute  relaxed ;  he  staggered  a  few  steps 
and  fell  upon  his  face.  A  brief  pause,  and  the 
louder  report  of  a  rifle,  and  brute  number  two  at 
the  heads  of  the  horses  slowly  settled  upon  the 
neck  and  shoulders  of  his  own  horse,  shivered,  and 
fell  on  the  turf  at  the  roadside.  Well  did  the 
women  and  the  driver  know  whence  these  shots 
came,  and  that  the  foresight  of  Uncle  Dick  had 
saved  them  from  capture  or  a  worse  fate. 

"  Drive !  drive  to  the  town  as  fast  as  ever  you 
can,  before  others  come!"  said  the  anxious  wo- 
man. "Let  us  get  to  the  town  before  we  are 
overtaken." 

"  Oh,  yes,  missus,  we'll  get  over  to  the  Ferry 
all  right  before  very  long,"  said  the  unexcited 
driver.  "But  don't  you  scare.  I  know  these 
fellers.  They  meant  to  do  this  job  alone — they 
hain't  got  no  friends,  an'  they  won't  do  anymore 
damage  till  somebody  sews  up  the  holes  in  their 
clothes.  But  them  horses  of  theirs  have  got  the 
U.  S.  brand.  I  think  we'll  take  'em  along.  May- 
be the  general  at  the  Ferry  would  rather  swap 
my  mules  for  these  horses  than  for  the  sick 
kunnel." 

With  this  monologue  he  proceeded  to  attach 
the  bridles  of  the  two  horses  to  the  rear  of  his 
wagon,  while  Mrs.  Van  Metre  was  begging  him 


THE   ESCAPE.  173 

to  hasten.  But  he  persisted  that  there  was  no 
farther  danger,  and  succeeded  in  inspiring  her 
with  a  little  of  his  own  confidence.  He  then  ex- 
amined the  men.  Both  were  shot  through  the 
chest.  One  hegged  for  water.  "Well,  well!  I 
thought  so  when  I  see  you  two  sarpents  come  out 
of  the  bush :  you  ain't  no  Union  men  nor  yet  Con- 
federates. You're  just  black-hearted  thieves  an' 
murderers.  You're  one  of  the  fellers  I  seen  after 
the  battle  of  Winchester.  I  was  coming  from 
Winchester  way ;  two  boys,  one  blue,  one  gray, 
both  hard  hit,  was  helpin'  each  other  off  the  field. 
You  an'  another  chap  like  you  was  stealin'  after 
them  with  a  big  knife  in  your  hand.  'Look  out 
for  that  black  devil,  boys!'  I  yelled.  One  of  the 
boys  pulled  his  gun  and  one  of  the  murderers 
ran.  It  was  you,  you  black  devil.  You  ain't  dead 
now.  You  can't  kill  them  sarpents  no  more'n 
pole-cats,"  he  observed  as  he  rolled  him  out  of 
the  travelled  part  of  the  road. 

The  delay  while  these  reflections  were  going  on 
had  been  almost  intolerable  to  the  poor  woman, 
and  little  less  so  to  the  officer  in  his  confined 
quarters.  But  it  was  over  at  last,  and  the  driver 
was  content  to  resume  his  seat,  deliberately  take 
up  the  reins,  and  tell  his  horses  to  "git."  W^ithin 
a  half-hour  afterward  the  conveyance  was  hailed 
and  stopped  by  the  picket  on  the  Union  lines. 

To  the  questions  of  the  officer  in  command  of 
the  picket,  who  demanded  to  know  where  he  was 


174  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

going  and  what  were  the  contents  of  his  load, 
the  farmer  dechned  to  make  any  answer.  If  he 
would  not  give  any  account  of  himself,  the  officer 
said  he  would  be  compelled  to  take  him  before 
the  general  in  command  of  the  post. 

This  threat  did  not  appear  to  alarm  him.  On 
the  contrary  he  said:  "Young  feller!  you  look 
bright  and  smart.  If  I  was  in  your  j^lace  that 
is  just  what  I'd  do.  We're  onfortnit  prisoners 
of  war.  Take  us  befo'  your  onmarciless  gen- 
eral!" 

The  clumsy  wagon  with  its  load  of  hay,  drawn 
by  the  unmatched,  half -starved  horses,  and  its 
trembling  female  passengers  were  taken,  under 
the  direction  of  the  officer  of  the  j^icket,  to  the 
Union  headquarters.  Very  deliberately  did  the 
ancient  Jehu  descend  from  his  perch,  throw  his 
reins  over  his  horses'  necks,  call  for  a  ladder,  and 
with  its  help  and  much  courtly  grace  assist  his 
lady  passengers  to  descend  to  the  ground. 

The  officer  of  the  day  directed  the  horses  to  be 
unharnessed,  taken  to  the  stables  and  fed.  This 
done,  the  driver  called  his  attention  to  the  other 
pair.  "  Don't  you  think  Uncle  Sam  well  has  some 
claim  onto  these  bosses?"  he  asked.  The  officer 
had  no  doubt  of  it,  and  wanted  to  know  whence 
they  came  and  how  he  got  them.  "I  will  tell 
you  the  whole  story  when  you  take  me  to  your 
general.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  make  two  bites  of 
one    cherry.     You    better    take    care    of    them 


THE   ESCAPE.  175 

bosses,"  he  continued,  "The  fellers  what  had 
them  won't  come  for  them  in  a  hurry." 

"I  will,"  said  the  officer,  "and  now  come  with 
me  to  General  Stevenson." 

"But  I  haven't  got  unloaded  yet,  "he  protested. 
"I  'spicions  there's  some  other  goods  in  that  load 
you  might  like  to  see.  Maybe  some  of  you  fellers 
will  help  unload  the  bay.  Maybe  there's  suthin 
under  it,  I  dun  know!" 

The  hint  of  the  old  farmer  fell  upon  listening 
ears.  Stalwart  arms,  some  with  pitchforks, 
others  with  unaided  hands,  made  short  work  of 
unloading  the  wagon.  When  the  hay  was  re- 
moved there  remained  exposed  the  crate,  cover- 
ing the  mattress  upon  which  lay  extended  an 
officer  in  uniform,  with  his  rifle,  revolver,  and 
crutches  by  his  side.  He  was  somewhat  ex- 
hausted by  his  long  ride  and  deprivation  of  air. 
They  tore  away  the  crate  and  aided  him  to  rise. 
Willing  hands  handed  him  his  crutches  and  raised 
him  to  an  uj)right  position  upon  his  remaining 
leg.  They  bruslied  the  dust  and  straw  from  his 
clothing,  and  scores  of  kind  soldiers  tendered 
him  their  good  offices.  He  was  almost  destitute 
of  strength,  his  face  was  very  pale,  the  perspira- 
tion stood  in  great  beads  upon  his  forehead. 
Rough  men  turned  away  their  faces  in  silence  as 
they  witnessed  his  heroic  effects  to  control  his 
emotions. 

What  a  flood  of  thoughts  must  have  crowded 
12 


176  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

his  memory  at  that  moment !  The  thunder  and 
crash  of  battle,  his  fall,  his  amputations,  his 
pains  and  weakness,  his  friends  forced  to  leave 
him,  his  abandonment  to  death  by  the  faithless 
ones  who  had  promised  to  nurse  him,  his  bitter 
loneliness  when  he  was  watching  for  death ;  the 
coming  of  his  preserver,  her  bravery  and  her  de- 
votion, his  long  sojourn  in  the  country  of  his 
enemies,  with  never  an  hour  that  was  not  one 
of  anxiety  and  peril !  It  was  all  over  now.  He 
stood  upon  loyal  ground,  surrounded  by  his  fel- 
low-soldiers, with  no  barrier  but  distance,  and 
that  so  easily  overcome,  between  himself,  his 
family  and  his  home.  Even  his  faithful  nurse 
was  with  him.  Was  it  strange  that  he  was  silent 
— that  he  was  so  overv/helmed  as  to  be  nearly 
unconscious  of  his  other  surroundings? 

Almost  in  a  whisper  he  asked  for  water.  It 
was  given  to  him ;  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  brow, 
and  his  face  brightened  as  some  thought  came  to 
him.  Then  his  eyes  anxiously  wandered  around 
the  broad  plaza,  as  if  something  was  absent 
which  he  longed  to  see.  They  rested  upon  the 
foot  of  the  tall  staff  at  the  top  of  which  he  knew 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  were  grandly  floating  upon 
the  autumn  air.  A  look  of  profoundest  gratitude 
covered  his  pallid  face  as  he  removed  his  cap, 
raised  his  eyes  to  it,  and  reverently  saluted  the 
flag  of  his  country.  The  effort  was  too  great  for 
his   weak   condition.     He   trembled    and   would 


THE   ESCAPE.  177 

have  fallen  had  not  strong  arms  borne  him  to  a 
chair. 

Save  for  his  whispered  request  for  water  he 
had  not  yet  spoken.  The  crowd  around  him, 
which  every  moment  increased  in  numbers,  was 
as  silent  as  himself.  Brave  men  who, would  not 
have  minded  the  thunder  of  cannon  were  so  im- 
pressed by  the  pathetic  interest  of  the  situation 
and  sympathy  for  the  sufferer  that  they  seemed 
to  fear  the  sound  of  their  own  voices.  After  a 
few  more  minutes  he  appeared  to  summon  all 
his  faculties,  turned  to  the  officer  of  the  day, 
saluted  him,  and  said  :  "  Colonel,  I  have  a  report 
to  make  to  the  general  in  command  of  this  post!" 

"I  was  about  to  offer  to  conduct  you  to  him," 
said  the  officer.  "I  am  certain  that  he  will  be 
as  much  pleased  as  we  are  to  welcome  your  re- 
turn among  us.  Would  you  like  to  have  your 
companions  see  the  general  with  you?" 

"Certainly!"  said  the  lieutenant.  "They  con- 
stitute very  material  portions  of  my  report." 

That  was  a  memorable  procession  which  the 
officer  of  the  day  now  conducted  to  the  quarters 
of  the  veteran  General  Stevenson,  then  in  com- 
mand at  Harper's  Ferry. 

Arm  in  arm  with  the  officer  went  the  lieuten- 
ant, his  once  vigorous  body  emaciated,  his  face 
pale,  his  eyes  sunken,  his  strength  almost  ex- 
hausted, his  step  uncertain  as  he  strove  to  walk 
upon  his  single  leg  by  the  assistance  of  his  unac- 


178  AN  UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 

customed  crutches.  He  was  followed  by  the  wo- 
man who  had  been  so  heroic  and  energetic  in  the 
presence  of  real  danger,  but  who  was  now  so 
timid  that  she  wished  she  could  shrink  into  abso- 
lute obscurity,  concealed  from  the  sight  of  men. 
Her  hand  held  that  of  her  little  niece,  who  was 
trembling  like  a  frightened  fawn  as  she  looked 
to  her  aunt  for  protection.  Next  came  the  griz- 
zled farmer.  But  his  assurance  had  all  left  him, 
and  now  when  for  the  first  time  he  realized  that 
he  was  actually  in  the  power  of  his  eneinies,  he 
appeared  not  to  be  quite  certain  whether  he  would 
not  be  ordered  to  be  shot  without  trial  or  prepa- 
ration. Officers  and  privates  from  the  Vermont 
brigade  and  many  other  regiments  followed,  all 
anxious  to  testify  their  welcome  back  to  life  of 
the  comrade  long  supposed  to  have  been  in  his 
grave.  They  moved  as  slowly  as  a  funeral  cor- 
tege— they  were  admitted  without  any  delay, 
and  filled  the  quarters  of  the  general  in  command 
to  the  overflow. 

"General  Stevenson,"  said  the  officer  of  the 
day,  "  it  is  my  duty  and  my  privilege  to  present 
to  you  a  brave  soldier.  Lieutenant  Bedell,  of  the 
Eleventh  Regiment  Vermont  Volunteers !  Lieu- 
tenant, I  beg  to  make  you  acquainted  with  Gen- 
eral Stevenson,  in  command  of  this  post." 

The  veteran  general  would  have  taken  his  hand 
without  a  shadow  of  formality.  The  lieutenant 
retired  a  single  step,  saluted,  and  said: 


THE   ESCAPE.  179 

"  General,  I  have  to  report  that  I  have  been  for 
some  weeks  absent  from  my  regiment  and  within 
the  enemy's  Hnes,  because  disabled  by  wounds 
and  unable  to  endure  transportation,  I  have 
been  concealed,  nursed,  saved  from  death,  by  the 
wife  of  a  Confederate  soldier,  a  brave  and  noble 
woman,  whom  I  have  induced  to  come  with  me 
to  secure  the  release  of  her  husband,  a  prisoner 
of  war  in  our  hands.  I  have  been  brought  into 
our  lines,  secreted  under  a  load  of  forage,  by  this 
farmer,  who  agreed  to  deliver  me  in  safety  at  this 
post,  in  exchange  for  a  pair  of  his  mules  appro- 
priated to  the  use  of  the  United  States  by  order 
of  General  Sheridan,  now  supposed  to  be  in  Mar- 
tinsburg.  He  has  faithfully  performed  his  part 
of  the  contract,  I  know  I  had  no  authority  to 
make  a  contract  to  bind  the  Government,  and  yet 
if  not  inconsistent  with  the  regulations  I  respect- 
fully ask  that  the  farmer  may  have  his  mules!" 

"I  confirm  your  contract!"  said  the  general 
with  great  cordiality.  "He  may  select  the  best 
pair  of  mules  in  the  corral  and  take  them  home 
with  him." 

This  arrangement  did  not  satisfy  the  veteran 
agriculturist.  He  hesitated  to  interpose  his  ob- 
jection. Standing  with  his  battered  hat  in  one 
hand,  with  the  other  he  swept  the  few  bristly 
hairs  that  stood  upright  on  the  top  of  his  head, 
in  imitation  of  the  lieutenant's  salute,  and  uttered 
his  protest. 


180  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"General,"  he  said,  "it  was  my  mules  that  I 
was  to  git.  I  wouldn't  swap  my  mules  for  no 
two  pair  of  the  best  mules  in  the  valley.  I  raised 
them  mules;  I  broke  'em.  They're  brothers,  one 
ten,  the  other  'leven  year  old.  They're  wonted 
to  every  inch  of  my  farm.  Them's  the  mules  I 
want;  they're  up  to  Martin sburg.  Missus  Van 
Metre's  nigger  seen  'em  thar." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  you  shall  have  your  own 
mules,"  said  the  general.  "I  will  see  that  the 
matter  is  looked  into  soon.  Just  now  other  af- 
fairs are  of  more  pressing  importance." 

The  mule-owner  was  preparing  an  elaborate 
statement  of  his  objections  to  this  arrangement, 
when  the  general  turned  him  over  to  his  quar- 
termaster, with  directions  to  see  that  he  was  well 
cared  for,  to  hear  his  story,  and  if  it  was  reason- 
able to  give  him  satisfaction.  One  of  his  aids 
was  directed  to  provide  a  room  and  all  necessary 
accommodations  for  Lieutenant  Bedell  at  the 
general's  quarters.  Mrs.  Van  Metre  and  her 
niece,  he  said,  would  be  taken  in  charge  by  the 
ladies  of  his  own  famil}?.  As  soon  as  Bedell  was 
rested  and  refreshed,  he  wished  to  hear  the  par- 
ticulars of  his  story. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

REST  AND  PREPARATION  FOR  THE  SEARCH. 

General  Stevenson  had  with  him  the  ladies 
of  his  family,  who  were  then  occupying  a  private 
residence  in  the  town.  The  tide  of  war  had 
rolled  far  up  the  valley,  and  they  were  living 
almost  in  the  quiet  surroundings  of  peace.  To 
their  care  he  committed  Mrs.  Van  Metre  and  her 
niece.  Our  heroine  was  greatly  changed.  Now 
that  the  demands  upon  her  energy  were  with- 
drawn, she  became  a  retiring,  sensitive  young 
woman,  unwilling  to  accept  favors  which  she 
could  never  hope  to  return,  yet  determined  not 
to  seem  insensible  to  the  kindness  of  her  new 
friends.  They  were  equally  cautious  not  to 
wound  her  pride  or  to  force  their  favors  upon 
her.  With  great  caution,  and  largely  by  fem- 
inine instinct,  they  ascertained  and,  almost  un- 
known to  her,  supplied  the  deficiencies  in  her 
wardrobe  and  that  of  her  niece,  and  furnished 
her  apartment  with  all  those  articles  so  neces- 
sary to  the  comfort  of  woman.  She  thought  she 
ought  not  to  avail  herself  of  them ;  but  she  had 
so  long  suffered  from  their  lack,  they  were  so 
tempting,  that  she  yielded,  although   she  could 

181 


182  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE, 

make  no  present  payment  except  by  her  thanks. 
These  conveniences  wrought  a  complete  change 
in  her  appearance.  She  was  now  a  refined,  culti- 
vated lady,  very  modest  in  her  bearing,  dignified 
in  her  carriage,  and  attractive  in  her  whole  ap- 
pearance. But  even  the  cheering  looks  and  words 
of  her  new  friends  could  not  banish  from  her 
face  that  infinite  sadness,  that  far-away  look  of 
anxious  waiting  for  something  or  some  one  whom 
she  feared  might  never  come. 

Nor  was  the  crippled  officer  less  fortunate  in 
his  experiences.  Long  accustomed  to  compliance 
with  all  the  demands  of  a  healthy  regimen,  his 
chief  source  of  discomfort  had  been  his  depriva- 
tion of  the  luxury  of  the  bath.  He  was  now 
taken  in  hand  by  the  valet  of  the  general  and 
the  barber  of  the  post.  They  were  much  more 
skilful,  though  they  could  not  have  been  more 
willing  or  kind-hearted  than  Uncle  Dick.  When, 
after  a  liberal  use  of  warm  water,  with  his  head 
properly  tonsured,  and  what  the  new  darky 
called  a  "fust -class  shampoo,"  he  left  their  hands, 
he  was  renewed  in  the  outer  man  almost  beyond 
recognition.  Supplied  by  the  general's  orders 
with  the  missing  articles  of  his  uniform,  he  was 
once  more  and  in  fact  Lieutenant  Bedell,  of  the 
Vermont  brigade,  the  pride  of  the  fighting  Sixth 
Corps,  in  all  but  the  loss  of  his  limb,  to  which  he 
was  now  gradually  becoming  accustomed. 

Then   when,  farther  strengthened    by  a   good 


PREPARATION    FOR   THE   SEARCH.  183 

dinner,  he  was  in  a  physical  condition  to  do  the 
subject  justice,  the  big-hearted  Stevenson  de- 
manded that  he  should  give  an  account  of  him- 
self during  the  long  time  when  his  brother-officers 
supposed  he  was  in  the  other  world.  Many  others 
were  impatient  to  hear  it,  and  he  consented  to 
relate  it  to  as  many  of  the  boys  as  the  room  pro- 
vided by  the  general  would  contain. 

As  a  chronicler  of  events  in  w^liich  he  had 
been  conspicuous,  the  officer  was  not  a  success. 
Of  those  which  concerned  others  he  spoke  elo- 
quently— so  eloquently  that  he  excited  the  indig- 
nation of  his  auditors  or  touched  their  S3'mpathies 
at  his  will.  Commencing  at  the  time  when  his 
friends  unwillingly  left  him,  with  his  supplies,  in 
the  promised  care  of  the  soldier  and  the  wretches 
who  had  been  j)aid  to  nurse  him,  he  admitted 
that  he  sent  away  the  nurse  before  he  was  robbed 
and  deserted  by  the  Asburys.  He  described  how 
they  took  his  supplies,  promising  to  prepare  and 
return  with  his  meal ;  how  long  and  hopefully  he 
waited;  how  the  conviction  gradually  became 
absolute  that  he  was  now  abandoned  by  all ;  how 
the  wind  and  rain  whirled  through  the  crevices 
during  that  long  and  dreadful  night  and  the 
next  long  and  dreadful  day;  then  he  knew  he 
was  growing  colder,  weaker,  and  his  pain  was 
increasing.  He  thought  of  his  distant  home,  of 
those  he  would  never  see  again.  Would  they 
ever  know  when  and  how  he  died?     How  long 


184  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

would  he  retain  consciousness?  Would  any  one 
find  and  bury  him,  or  recognize  him  when  he 
was  dead?  Was  it  wrong  to  wish  to  die  soon — 
to  have  an  end  of  his  pain  and  grief  in  the  sleejD 
of  death? 

And  now  a  thought  came  into  his  mind  which 
led  him  to  fight  with  a  fierce  determination. 
He  would  furnish  the  means  of  his  own  identifica- 
tion. They  should  not  bury  him  with  the  un- 
known. At  least  his  body  should  be  returned  after 
the  war  to  the  little  churchyard  under  the  Green 
Mountains ! 

In  a  pocket  on  his  right  side  there  was  a  pencil. 
If  he  could  reach  that!  He  would  not  sleej) 
again,  for  he  might  die  in  his  sleep ;  he  could  keep 
awake,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  light  enough  in  the 
morning,  with  his  left  hand  he  would  print  his 
name  upon  the  whitest  thing  within  reach !  Now 
summoning  all  his  strength,  he  tried  to  reach  the 
pencil.  Alas !  he  could  not.  He  tried  again  and 
again,  and  each  time  he  was  weaker  than  before ! 
Then  he  described  his  sickening  sensation  of  fail- 
ure :  he  must  give  wp,  he  could  do  nothing.  He 
began  to  long  for  unconsciousness  and  death.  He 
brought  the  ghastly  picture  so  vividly  before 
their  eyes  that  the  hearts  of  his  auditors  were 
shocked  and  they  hoped  he  would  hasten  to  the 
end,  and  yet  there  was  an  attraction  about  it 
that  led  them  to  cry  out  when  he  proposed  to 
omit  an  incident  of  the  story. 


PREPARATION   FOR   THE   SEARCH.  185 

"Comrades!"  he  exclaimed,  "before  my  Maker 
I  declare  that  at  the  very  moment  when  I  was 
givmg  up,  when  I  knew  my  strength  was  smking 
and  I  believed  I  was  actually  dying,  I  thought  an 
angel  burst  into  that  dreadful  room.  I  suppose 
she  carried  a  lamp  of  some  kind.  It  seemed  like 
a  great  wave  of  sunlight,  bringing  v/armth  and 
hope  into  that  place  of  darkness  and  desolation ! 
I  was  glad ;  how  glad  God  alone  knows,  and  yet 
my  mortification  was  intense.  The  colored  man 
could  do  but  little  to  make  that  room  a  fit  place 
for  any  woman.  I  tried  to  tell  her  so,  for  I  knew 
and  I  recognized  her  noble  face.  Then  she 
silenced  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  child.  'Don't  you 
speak,  sir!  not  a  word!'  she  said.  The  light 
show^ed  a  beautiful  face  looking  down  into  mine, 
and  a  gentle  hand  and  a  soft  handkerchief  dipped 
in  cold  water  were  moving  over  my  parched  lips 
and  clammy  face.  I  tell  you,  friends,  the  drop  of 
cold  water  from  the  hand  of  Lazarus  would  not 
have  been  so  delicious  to  the  fevered  tongue  of 
the  rich  man  in  torment  as  the  touch  of  that 
moist  hand  was  to  me." 

Then  he  told  them  how  he  was  nursed  into 
strength  and  then  moved  to  Mrs.  Van  Metre's 
house;  of  the  faithful  services  and  discretion  of 
Uncle  Dick,  his  wife,  and  Peter  Dennis.  In  short, 
he  told  them  all  that  we  have  attempted  to  set 
before  the  reader.  He  omitted  as  much  as  his 
auditors  would  permit  of  that  which  concerned 


186  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

only  himself — he  was  a  helpless  hulk,  incapable 
of  action,  only  to  be  acted  upon.  But  when  he 
spoke  of  his  preserver,  language  was  too  weak 
for  the  expression  of  his  gratitude  and  admira- 
tion. "Think  of  her,  comrades!"  he  passionately 
exclaimed;  "she  is  only  a  girl,  even  now.  But 
did  you  ever  hear  of  such  courage,  charitj',  en- 
ergy, of  such  unselfish  generosity?  such  untiring 
devotion  of  a  woman  to  her  wounded,  helpless, 
suffering  enemy?  It  was  of  little  importance  to 
mankind  that  she  saved  my  crippled  life,  but  her 
example  ought  to  be  preserved  as  a  model  for 
true  women  to  imitate  as  long  as  there  are  wars 
among  nations  or  virtues  among  men!" 

"As  he  went  on  with  the  story,"  said  one  of 
his  hearers,  "officers  and  privates  packed  them- 
selves in  a  circle  around  him.  Every  one  leaned 
and  crowded  forward,  with  his  hand  to  his  ear, 
as  if  he  feared  to  lose  one  word  of  the  thrilling 
narration.  It  was  a  late  hour  at  night  when  it 
ceased,  not  because  our  interest  flagged  or  he  had 
reached  its  conclusion,  but  because  it  was  evident 
that  he  could  not  continue  it  except  at  the  cost 
of  physical  exhaustion.  The  general  with  a  very 
gentle  voice  said:  'We  will  hear  the  rest  another 
time.'  A  brave,  true  chaplain  raised  his  voice 
and  exclaimed:  'And  in  the  mean  time  let  us  all 
thank  God  for  this  woman — this  noble  woman, 
who  enables  us  to  say,  this  our  brother  was  dead 
and  is  alive  again — was  lost,  and  is  found!'  " 


PREPARATION  FOR  THE  SEARCH.       187 

That  night,  for  the  first  time  since  he  was 
wounded,  the  heutenant  slept  without  watchful- 
ness or  anxiety.  He  had  much  to  do,  and  he 
wished  to  set  about  it  without  delay.  He  in- 
tended to  take  the  early  morning  train  for  Wash- 
ington, where  he  proposed  to  consult  influential 
Vermonters  and  arrange  for  the  release  of  the  hus- 
band of  his  preserver.  But  when  he  awoke  the 
sun  was  streaming  into  his  windows,  and  the 
train  for  Washington  had  been  on  its  way  long 
enough  to  have  already  arrived  at  the  caf)ital. 

A  servant  who  had  watched  for  his  awakening 
brought  him  his  breakfast,  which  he  took  in  bed, 
luxuriously.  He  was  then  informed  that  the 
general  wished  to  see  him  before  he  made  any 
plans  for  the  future. 

General  Stevenson  received  him  with  much 
cordiality.  "Your  system  needs  toning  up,  lieu- 
tenant," he  said  when  he  met  him.  "I  have  an 
excellent  prescription  for  you.  Be  seated  and 
take  it  at  once."  And  he  handed  him  a  thick 
letter,  only  three  days  old,  which  bore  a  post- 
mark in  the  Green  Mountain  State. 

It  proved  to  be  just  such  a  letter  as  a  sensible, 
affectionate  Vermont  wife  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  write  under  similar  circumstances.  It 
informed  him  of  the  health  and  comfort  of  his 
family,  of  their  undying  love,  of  their  anxiety 
and  sorrow  when  they  heard  of  his  wounds  and 
his  being  left  behind  when  the  army  retired,  of 


188  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

their  joy  and  that  of  all  their  neighbors  when 
they  learned  from  his  last  letter  of  his  almost 
certain  recovery  through  the  nursing  of  a  good 
woman.  Would  he  carry  to  that  dear  woman 
the  gratitude  and  love  of  his  own  wife?  The 
writer  had  only  one  apprehension  now.  Her 
husband  was  still  in  danger  in  the  enemy's 
country.     She  wanted  him  home ! 

"We  have  had  a  bad  fright,  dear,"  continued 
the  letter.  "But  it  is  happily  over  now,  and  I 
can  write  you  all  about  it.  After  we  had  read 
over  your  last  letter  so  many  times  that  we 
could  repeat  it  from  memory,  Henry  brought  me 
his  school  atlas,  and  wanted  me  to  show  him 
where  you  were  and  the  ways  I  would  take  to  go 
to  you.  I  took  great  pains  to  show  him,  for  I 
like  to  know  that  the  children  are  thinking  about 
you.  For  two  or  three  days  the  little  fellow  was 
very  sober.  Two  or  three  times  he  said  to  me 
that  you  must  be  very  lonely,  and  as  you  could 
walk  only  by  the  help  of  crutches,  you  must  need 
some  one  all  the  time  to  get  things  for  you.  One 
morning  very  early  I  found  that  he  had  disap- 
peared. I  hunted  for  him,  and  as  I  did  not  find 
him  I  aroused  the  neighbors  to  assist  me  in  the 
search.  When  I  returned  to  the  house  I  dis- 
covered that  the  map  we  had  been  looking  over 
was  torn  out  of  Henry's  atlas.  It  then  flashed 
over  me  that  the  little  fellow  had  started  to  go 
to  you !     At  my  request,  our  neighbor  N har- 


PREPARATION   FOR  THE   SEARCH.  189 

nessed  his  horse  and  drove  immediately  to  the 
railroad  station,  which  he  reached  before  the  ar- 
rival of  the  train  for  the  South.  Tliere  he  found 
Henry  half-concealed  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
station.  He  asked  him  where  he  was  going.  'I 
am  going  to  bring  my  father  home,  sir,"  he  said. 
'It  is  a  long  way,  and  he  is  lame  and  cannot  get 
away  alone. '  'But,'  said  our  neighbor,  'it  is  a 
long  and  expensive  journey  to  your  father,  and 
you  have  no  money, '  'I  have  some  money  in  my 
bank,'  he  said;  'I  will  give  all  that,  and  when  I 
tell  them  that  I  am  going  after  my  father  who 
was  wounded,  fighting  for  his  country,  and  has 
had  his  leg  cut  off  and  is  lame,  and  we  want  him 
home,  and  there  was  no  one  to  go  after  him  but 
me,  and  I  will  work  and  get  the  money,  I  think 
everybody  will  help  me !  Don't  you?  Anyway, 
I  must  try ! '  He  consented  to  come  home,  and 
he  did  not  shed  a  tear  until  his  arms  were  about 
my  neck  and  his  head  lay  on  my  shoulder.  Then 
— but  I  think  I  will  not  tell  how  he  grieved.  So 
you  see,  dear  Henry,  that  you  need  not  mind 
the  loss  of  your  leg.  Very  soon  you  will  have 
all  the  assistance  you  want  from  your  own 
son," 

"  General,  I  must  go  home  at  once.  I  cannot 
wait,"  said  the  officer  as  he  finished  reading- the 
letter. 

"That  may  be  best,"  said  the  general.  "But 
I  have  some  information  to  give  you,  and  before 


190  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

giving  it  I  would  like  to  know  all  the  facts.  Is 
there  anything  unpleasant  in  that  letter?" 

"No,  I  cannot  say  that  there  is.  Would  you 
like  to  read  it?"  he  asked  as  he  extended  his 
hand. 

"I  think  I  would,"  responded  the  general.  He 
took  the  sheets,  and  while  reading  them  slowly 
turned  his  back  toward  the  officer.  There  was  a 
spasmodic  twitching  of  his  gray  mustache.  Once 
he  removed  and  polished  his  spectacles  after  first 
wiping  bis  eyes.  Then  he  cleared  his  throat  and 
faced  the  lieutenant  again. 

"  It  is  not  singular  that  you  should  feel  drawn 
to  your  home,  lieutenant," he  said.  "  You  ought 
to  be  proud  of  your  son !  Yes,  and  of  his  mother. 
If  he  lives  and  I  live,  and  the  country  remembers 
the  services  of  a  battered  old  soldier,  that  boy 
shall  go  to  West  Point.  He  gets  his  sand  from 
both  father  and  mother,  I  see.  It's  the  mothers, 
though,  that  make  the  boys.  God  knows  what 
reason  I  have  to  say  that!"  he  said  with  deep 
reverence. 

"But  I  have  tidings  for  you  not  quite  so  agree- 
able," he  continued.  "  Mrs.  Van  Metre  is  ill — de- 
lirious. My  family  and  the  doctor  don't  quite 
understand  it  yet,  but  it  seems  that  she  has  suf- 
fered so  much  that  kindness  overwhelms  her. 
We  fear  she  will  have  brain  fever.  It  will  be  a 
sad,  sad  case  if  she  does.  I  thought  you  should 
know  her  condition  at  once.     She  shall  have  the 


PREPARATION    FOR   THE    SEARCH.  191 

best  of  care,  for  I  solemnly  believe,  Bedell,  that 
she  is  the  noblest  woman  I  ever  saw." 

"General,  you  alarm  me!"  said  the  officer, 
"  but  you  have  settled  one  matter.  I  had  thought 
I  would  go  home  for  a  few  days,  then  return  here 
and  go  with  her  to  find  her  husband.  But  I 
should  be  a  cur  to  leave  her  now.  Heaven  forgive 
me  for  thinking  of  it." 

"You  are  a  trump,  my  boy!"  said  the  general, 
laying  his  hand  ujDon  Bedell's  shoulder  with  a 
force  that  made  his  single  leg  quiver.  "  No  man 
was  ever  the  loser  by  doing  the  square  thing  by 
a  woman,  and  certainly  not  by  such  a  woman  as 
she  who  saved  your  life.  Now,  if  that  brain  of 
yours,  which  has  been  considerably  stirred  up  re- 
cently, is  settled  so  that  you  know,  tell  us  what 
we  can  do  for  you.  Mrs.  Van  Metre  is  in  the 
hands  of  good  nurses,  who,  for  some  reason  which 
I  do  not  know,  say  that  it  would  not  be  wise  for 
you  to  see  her  now." 

"I  know  of  one  thing  that  I  want  now, "said 
Bedell.  "  This  stump  of  a  hand  of  mine  cannot 
yet  do  much  with  a  pen.  I  want  some  one  who 
will  write  a  dispatch  for  me  and  afterward  a 
letter." 

The  general  touched  a  bell.     "Bring  me  some 

telegraph  blanks,"  he  said  to  the  messenger  who 

answered  his  call.     In  a  moment  they  were  before 

him.     "I  will  write  the  dispatch,"  he  continued. 

"  I  know  there  is  a  woman  who  wants  it.     Here 
in 


192  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

I  have  the  direction  ah-eady  written.  What  do 
you  wish  to  say?" 

"What  is  the  charge  for  ten  words?"  asked 
the  officer. 

"Charge  for  ten  words!"  roared  the  gen- 
eral. "Man,  are  you  crazy?  Here  you  are, 
just  brought  back  from  the  edge  of  the  grave,  and 
you  want  to  count  the  words  in  which  you  shall 
tell  the  mother  of  your  boy  that  you  are  safe 
under  the  old  flag!  No!  no!  tell  me  what  you 
want  to  say.  Give  me  the  idea.  I  will  write 
the  message  for  you,  for  on  my  word  I  don't 
think  you  are  capable  of  writing  it — nor  that  I 
should  be  if  I  were  in  your  place,"  he  said  after 
some  hesitation. 

Bedell  complied.  He  would  like  to  inform  his 
wife,  he  said,  that  he  had  escaped  from  the  en- 
emy's country  and  was  safe  within  the  Union 
lines ;  that  except  for  the  loss  of  his  leg  he  was 
almost  well;  that  he  would  come  home  very 
soon,  but  there  were  some  matters  he  "must  first 
attend  to  which  would  not  detain  him  many 
days. 

The  general  thereupon  wrote  the  following  after 
showing  the  direction : 

"Your  husband  is  now  sitting  in  my  quarters 
here,  strong  and  well  but  for  the  loss  of  his  leg 
and  a  part  of  his  right  hand.  He  was  brought 
in  by  a  brave  and  noble  woman,  who  unquestion- 
ably saved  his  life,   kept  him  concealed  for  six 


PREPARATION    FOR   THE    SEARCH.  193 

weeks,  and  brought  him  safely  here.  She,  poor 
woman,  is  in  deep  trouble,  for  her  husband  is  a 
prisoner  in  our  hands,  and  she  has  not  heard  from 
him  since  his  capture  last  May.  Her  exertions 
have  overpowered  her,  and  she  has  been  stricken 
with  fever.  Your  husband  says  he  would  be  a 
cur  if  he  should  leave  her  in  her  present  sickness 
and  sorrow.  I  am  no  judge  if  the  woman 
who  wrote  him  the  letter  he  has  just  shown  me 
is  not  of  the  same  opinion.  Take  the  advice 
of  an  old  soldier!  Be  patient!  Stand  by  the 
brave  woman  who  has  so  nobly  stood  by  your 
husband,  and,  with  the  blessing  of  Almighty 
God,  you  and  she  shall  both  soon  see  your  hus- 
bands." 

The  general  signed  his  own  name  to  the  dispatch 
and  marked  it  with  the  letters  D.H.  Bedell  said 
it  was  admirable,  just  what  he  wanted,  but  the 
charges  would  ruin  him. 

"Do  you  see  those  capitals — D.H. ?"  asked  the 
general.  "They  mean  Deadhead!  No  charge. 
Free  passage !  If  the  telegraph  company  will  not 
deadhead  such  a  dispatch  to  such  a  woman  as 
your  wife,  I  have  got  no  use  for  it  and  it  will 
get  out  of  my  department  double-quick!"  He 
rang  the  bell.  "Send  this!"  he  said  to  the  mes- 
senger who  came.  Then  turning  to  the  offic&r  he 
said,  "  I  will  commission  pne  of  my  aids  to  write 
your  letter." 

But  Bedell  declared  that  the  dispatch  conveyed 


194  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

all  that  at  present  he  desired  to  say  to  his  wife. 
At  all  events,  he  would  not  write  until  he  had 
more  definitely  determined  when  he  would  go 
home.  First  of  all  he  wished  to  see  Mrs.  Van 
Metre. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A  TIME   OF   NEW  TROUBLE   AND   ANXIETY. 

In  his  first  interview  with  them,  the  officer  saw 
that  the  faces  of  the  surgeons  wore  a  very  serious 
expression.  The  condition  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre, 
they  said,  was  very  critical.  Her  danger  was  in- 
creased by  their  inability  to  account  for  her  dis- 
ease, upon  which  their  prescriptions  produced  no 
effect  whatever.  Her  temperature  was  very  high, 
her  pulse  rapid,  her  delirium  constant.  She 
seemed  to  be  tortured  by  her  conscience.  Her 
self-reproaches  were  pitiable.  She  said  she  was 
a  bad,  wicked  woman.  She  had  nursed,  possibly 
saved  the  life  of  a  Northern  invader — of  the  en- 
emy of  the  South.  It  was  wrong — her  country- 
women would  all  think  it  was  wrong.  Her 
prayers,  her  appeals  for  mercy  were  touching. 
She  thought  she  was  doing  right ;  she  had  done 
it  for  her  own  husband !  Should  not  a  true  wife 
do  all  she  could  for  her  husband?  She  had  done 
wrong — she  saw  it  all  now.  She  did  not  ask  par- 
don for  herself,  she  was  willing  to  die,  but  she 
implored  the  Lord  to  save  her  husband!  She 
would  not  see  Bedell,  she  could  not  hear  his  name ; 

195 


19fi  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE, 

she  was  a  wicked  woman  because  she  did  not  let 
him  die! 

The  doctors  secured  from  Bedell  a  faithful  ac- 
count of  all  she  had  done,  of  all  he  knew  about 
her.  Her  soul,  he  said,  was  as  j)ure  as  an  angel's. 
He  had  never  heard  but  one  intimation  made 
against  her  conduct ;  that  was  by  one  of  the  rob- 
bers who  attacked  them  on  their  way  into  camp ; 
he  had  paid  for  his  slander  with  his  life.  It  was 
finally  decided  that  in  her  grief  for  her  husband 
she  had  sought  occupation  for  her  mind  in  the 
care  of  the  wounded  officer.  That  now  he  v/as 
out  of  danger,  her  grief  had  returned  with  greater 
intensity,  and  under  it  in  her  weakened  vitality 
her  mind  had  given  way. 

While  this  diagnosis  was  reasonably  accurate, 
it  did  not  give  effect  to  their  prescriptions  nor 
lead  her  into  the  path  of  recovery. 

Just  then,  however,  something  occurred  which 
but  for  her  delirium  would  have  been  more  effect- 
ive than  any  medical  prescription.  General  Ste- 
venson had  been  so  impressed  with  her  devoted 
conduct  as  described  by  the  lieutenant  that  he 
had  communicated  the  substance  of  it  by  tele- 
graph, as  soon  as  it  came  to  his  knowledge,  to 
Secretary  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  That  officer  forth- 
with ordered  the  immediate  discharge  of  Mrs. 
Van  Metre's  husband  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  and 
directed  that  well-known  and  knightly  old  veteran 
General  Ethan  Allen  Hitchcock  to  write  to  her 


A    TIME    OF   NEW    TROUBLE    AND    ANXIETY.       197 

the  letter  which  appears  m  our  introduction  to 
this  vohime  informing  her  of  her  husbancVs  re- 
lease. This  letter  ought  to  have  relieved  all  her 
apprehensions.  But  the  assault  of  the  disease 
upon  the  throne  of  her  reason  had  been  very  se- 
vere. With  all  the  obstinacy  of  delirium  she  re- 
fused to  believe  the  good  news,  and  even  charged 
her  nurses  with  kindly  intent  to  deceive  her.  She 
persisted  in  her  conviction  that  she  had  committed 
a  crime  for  which  there  was  no  pardon.  Even 
the  excellent  clergyman  who,  hearing  of  her 
troubles,  came  to  reason  and  to  pray  with  her, 
could  make  no  impression  upon  her.  Her  tem- 
perature continued  to  rise,  her  fever  began  to 
develop  more  dangerous  symptoms,  and  the  skilled 
physicians  who  had  her  in  charge  said  that  unless 
it  could  be  arrested,  it  would  consume  her  remain- 
ing vitality  and  the  end  would  come. 

Poor  Bedell  was  well-nigh  frantic.  From  the 
very  heights  of  happiness  and  hope  he  was 
plunged  into  the  lowest  depths  of  despair.  He 
became  almost  as  unreasonable  as  his  benefactress 
in  her  delirium.  He  charged  himself  with  her 
disease  and  her  destruction.  Nor  could  he  for  a 
time  himself  bear  up  against  the  sea  of  troubles 
which  now  appeared  to  roll  its  resistless  waves 
over  him.  His  long  journey  under  the  load 
of  forage,  deprived  of  a  supply  of  air,  had 
weakened  him ;  his  consciousness  that  her  devo- 
tion to  him  was  the  proximate  cause  of  his  pre- 


198  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

server's  present  condition  so  wrought  upon  his 
mind  that  he  was  ready  to  take  to  his  bed,  in- 
different whether  he  ever  rose  from  it  again. 
Although  the  influences  which  wrought  upon  his 
mind  were  not  unHke  those  with  which  Mrs.  Van 
Metre  was  contending,  the  administration  of  rem- 
edies by  the  doctors  produced  some  effect.  They 
gave  him  powerful  sedatives,  and  he  ultimately 
fell  into  a  broken,  half-delirious  sleep. 

The  railway  station  at  Harper's  Ferry  was  in 
such  close  proximity  to  the  quarters  of  General 
Stevenson  that  from  his  room  Bedell  knew  of 
the  arrival  and  departure  of  every  passenger  train. 
He  was  even  able  to  distinguish  those  to  or  from 
Northern  and  Southern  routes  of  travel.  One 
morning,  after  a  restless  night  in  which  for  the 
hundredth  time  he  had  reviewed  the  whole  his- 
tory of  his  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Van  Metre, 
and  was  unable  to  draw  from  it  any  justification 
for  the  past  or  hope  for  the  future,  he  fell  into  a 
half- waking  slumber.  The  curtains  were  drawn 
to  exclude  the  light  from  his  windows ;  faithful 
colored  nurses  had  been  provided,  who  were  di- 
rected to  permit  no  one  to  enter  his  room  except 
in  their  presence,  for  the  breaking  out  of  a  new 
suppuration  from  his  amputation  was  imminent. 
Should  that  occur,  his  condition  might  again  be- 
come as  desperate  as  it  was  when  he  was  found 
in  his  deserted  room. 

On  this  afterward  well-remembered  morning, 


A   TIME   OF   NEW   TROUBLE   AND   ANXIETY.      199 

as  he  lay  dreaming  of  his  home  and  of  many- 
things  which  gave  comfort  to  his  heart,  he  heard 
long  before  daylight  the  noise  of  the  conveyances 
and  other  preparations  for  the  early  morning 
trains.  Then  there  was  the  noise  and  bustle  of 
their  arrival,  the  clamorous  solicitations  of  the 
cab-drivers  for  the  passengers,  the  sound  of 
wheels  as  the  vehicles  rolled  away.  Then  all  was 
still  and  dark  again,  for  it  was  in  the  early  days 
of  winter. 

He  supposed  that  he  fell  asleep  again  and  was 
dreaming  of  those  who  were  so  dear  to  him  in  his 
distant  home.  He  imagined  that  he  was  in  some 
new  and  deep  trouble.  Some  one  had  come  be- 
tween himself  and  his  wife  and  children  and  was 
Intent  upon  keeping  them  separated.  Weak  and 
crippled  by  his  wounds,  he  was  powerless  to  re- 
sist. In  the  confusion  of  his  dream  he  fancied  he 
heard  voices.  One  was  that  of  his  new  colored 
nurse:  "I  ask  your  pardon,  missus,  but  my  or- 
ders was  de  strictest  kind.  De  cappen  mus'  not 
be  waked.  No  one  mus'  go  into  his  room !"  Then 
he  fancied  he  heard  another  voice,  strangely  dear 
to  him,  entreating,  "But  I  am  his  wife.  I  have 
the  right  to  see  him.  Tell  him  that  it  is  his  wife 
that  wants  to  see  him." 

"I  cannot  do  it,  missus,"  said  the  nurse.  "I 
should  be  dismissed  if  I  disobey  de  surgeon's  or- 
ders, and  if  de  cappen  should  die  I  would  be  shot. 
You  mus'  wait  till  daylight  and  see  de  doctor." 


200  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

Then  another  dear,  familiar  voice  seemed  to 
say:  "He  is  my  papa!  I  want  to  see  my  i^ajDa! 
I  will  see  him !  No  one  shall  keep  me  and  my 
mother  from  my  own  dear  father!  Is  this  the 
door  to  his  room?  Stand  aside,  I  say,  and  let  us 
pass!" 

"  'Fore  de  Lord,  I  was  afeard  of  dat  little  boy," 
the  nnrse  afterward  said.  "  Seemed  like  as  if  he 
was  in  command  ob  de  i)ost,  and  we  had  to  get 
out  ob  de  way.  He  march  straight  to  de  door, 
and  say  to  de  lady,  'Come!'  Well!  I  did  de  bes' 
I  could,  but  it  was  no  use!" 

Now  indeed  the  door  did  open,  and  with  an 
effect  which  reminded  him  of  the  night  when  his 
preserver  first  came  to  him  in  his  desolation  at 
Berryville.  Some  one  ran  across  the  room  with 
a  quick,  light  step  and  grasped  his  neck  and 
spoke.  He  heard  the  voice  of  a  boy  exclaiming, 
"Papa!  my  own  papa!"  Then  there  was  a 
slovfer,  softer  step,  and  in  the  dim  twilight  he 
saw  approaching  him  the  form  which  was  dearest 
on  earth  to  him.  It  was  his  own  dear  wife — it 
was  no  vision,  no  dream,  all  was  real.  He  was 
awake,  the  arms  of  his  wife  and  his  boy  were 
around  him,  their  voices  were  in  his  ears,  and, 
thank  God,  he  was  once  more  with  his  loved  ones. 

The  advent  upon  the  scene  of  a  clear-headed, 
sensible  woman  promptly  changed  the  appear- 
ance of  things.  At  once,  that  very  morning,  be- 
fore she  attempted  to  give  her  husband  any  ac- 


A   TIME   OF   NEW   TROUBLE   AND   ANXIETY.      201 

count  of  his  home  or  of  herself,  she  set  about 
making  herself  the  mistress  of  the  situation.  Her 
husband  was  only  too  ready  to  tell  the  whole  story 
of  Mrs.  Van  Metre  and  to  sound  the  praises  of 
the  noble  woVnan  who  had  saved  his  life.  His 
enthusiastic  admiration  might  have  excited  the 
jealousy  of  some  wives,  but  in  this  case  it  only 
filled  her  heart  with  love.  She  had  long  and  re- 
peated interviews  with  the  doctors,  who  assured 
her  that  she  must  on  no  account  see  their  patient, 
for  the  excitement  would  probably  increase  her 
fever  and  produce  a  fatal  result.  The  old  clergy- 
man related  his  interviews  with  her,  and  finally 
the  guests  of  General  Stevenson  took  her  into 
their  confidence.  From  these  ladies  she  secured 
much  valuable  advice  and  information.  In  fact, 
the  conclusion  arrived  at  was  rather  the  result  of 
their  joint  judgment  than  the  opinion  of  any  one 
of  them.  With  the  instincts  of  good  and  true 
women,  they  decided  that  Mrs.  Van  Metre  was 
an  intensely  conscientious,  faithful,  and  most  de- 
voted wife;  that  when  she  had  long  endured  in 
silence  her  grief  for  the  captivity  of  her  husband 
and  her  anxiety  for  his  safety,  and  when  her 
nerves  were  irritated  by  the  incessant  sounds  and 
perils  of  war,  she  had  heard  of  this  wounded, 
deserted,  and  dying  officer.  She  had  followed  the 
impulses  of  her  emotional  nature,  and  with  an 
undefined  idea  that  some  Northern  woman  might 
do  for  her  imprisoned  husband   what  she  could 


203  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

do  for  his  wounded  adversary,  she  had  devoted 
herself  to  the  work  of  saving  Bedell's  life.  The 
work  gave  her  occui^ation — prevented  her  own 
grief  from  gnawing  at  and  tearing  her  heart. 
She  had  succeeded.  Now,  when  her  patient  was 
safe  among  his  own  people,  when  her  constant 
devotion  was  no  longer  necessary,  her  own  sor- 
row, her  love  for  her  husband,  her  doubts  whether 
she  had  done  right,  her  fears,  had  simply  over- 
whelmed her  like  a  flood.  All  the  barriers  of 
her  firmness  had  given  way,  and  the  recent  events 
in  her  life,  that  unselfish  devotion  which  to  others 
appeared  so  beautiful,  seemed  to  her  inexcusably 
selfish  and  base. 

If  this  diagnosis  of  the  situation  was  correct, 
Mrs.  Bedell  knew  that  it  was  the  heart  of  her 
husband's  preserver  that  wanted  treatment,  in- 
stead of  her  body,  and  that  she  could  not  be  ben- 
efited by  medical  prescrif)tions.  She  was  an 
energetic  person,  this  woman  of  the  Green  Moun- 
tains, and  her  act  swiftly  followed  her  conclu- 
sions. As  soon  as  she  had  decided  upon  her 
course,  she  went  straight  to  the  doctors  and  in- 
sisted upon  her  right  to  nurse  the  patient.  They 
hesitated,  argued ;  she  v/as  a  stranger,  they  said. 
An  interview  with  her  they  feared  would  increase 
the  fever  and  excitement  of  the  patient  and  might 
prove  fatal  to  her  life.  Then  they  had  no  evi- 
dence of  her  skill  and  experience — in  short,  if  she 
had  been  nn  ordinary  woman  they  would  have 


A   TIME   OF   NEW   TROUBLE   AND   ANXIETY,      203 

refused  to  permit  her  to  see  the  patient,  who,  as 
they  were  constrained  to  admit,  was  rapidly  grow- 
ing worse. 

She  swejDt  away  their  objections  with  a  wave 
of  her  hand.  "  She  will  die,  you  say,  unless  there 
is  a  favorable  change,"  she  said ;  "  your  treatment 
has  produced  no  good  results.  Why  not,  then, 
try  mine?  I  think  it  is  my  duty  to  see  and  to 
nurse  her.  I  would  much  prefer  to  see  her  with 
your  consent.  I  have  a  better  right  to  see  her 
than  you  have  to  keep  us  separated.  If  I  cannot 
obtain  your  consent,  I  must  dispense  with  it!" 

The  doctors,  who  ardently  desired  to  save  the 
life  of  their  patient,  decided  not  to  oi)pose  her 
vigorous  proceedings  farther,  and  consented  that 
she  might  see  Mrs.  Van  Metre  for  five  minutes 
only.  She  accepted  the  compromise  with  a  men- 
tal reservation  that  she  would  do  as  she  liked 
about  complying  with  the  condition  as  to  time. 

It  was  evening  when  she  entered  the  sick-room. 
Very  soft  was  her  step  as  she  approached  the 
bedside  and  very  slow  the  movement  of  her 
strong,  cool  hand  as  it  stole  around  that  of  the 
patient,  now  hot  with  fever.  She  seated  herself 
upon  the  bed;  with  her  handkerchief  saturated 
with  some  perfumed  stimulant  she  bathed  the 
dry,  hot  forehead  and  face ;  then  her  head  drooped 
and  she  kissed  the  fevered  hand  which  lay  upon 
the  coverlet.  Then  her  arm  quietly  crept  around 
the  restless  form  and  drew  it  toward  her  until 


204  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

each  could  feel  the  beating  of  the  other's  heart. 
Her  face  was  very  near  to  that  of  the  weary  pa- 
tient now.  Their  lips  closed  in  a  long  kiss,  and 
the  first  words  which  fell  in  a  whisper  upon  the 
ears  of  the  sick  woman  were :  "  You  have  brought 
my  husband  back  to  me  from  the  borders  of  the 
grave;  we  will  go  together  and  find  yours.''^ 

There  was  no  need  that  the  new  nurse  should 
tell  her  that  she  was  Bedell's  wife — no  need  to 
thank  her  for  what  she  offered  to  do — no  need  of 
any  words  between  them.  Their  hearts  were 
close  together,  speaking  a  language  which  both 
understood.  Then  for  the  first  time  since  her  ill- 
ness the  fountain  of  the  sick  wife's  tears  was 
opened.  The  tears  of  her  gratitude  mingled  with 
those  of  her  sister's  affection  on  the  same  pillow. 

The  doctor  who  was  on  the  watch,  alarmed  by 
the  length  of  the  stay  of  the  new,  self-appointed 
nurse,  and  really  anxious  for  its  consequences, 
now  gently  opened  the  door  to  call  her  away. 
By  the  dim  light  he  could  distinguish-  the  forms 
of  the  two  persons,  but  they  were  so  close  to- 
gether that  they  seemed  but  one.  The  sick  wo- 
man lay  nearest  to  him ;  he  saw  the  movement 
of  her  respiration,  not  short  and  feverish  as  it 
had  been,  but  gentle  and  almost  as  slow  as  that 
of  the  strong  woman  in  whose  embrace  she  lay. 
As  he  came  nearer  he  was  still  more  surprised  to 
find  that  the  patient  was  sleeping,  but  the  eyes 
of  her  new  friend  were  wide  open.     He  made  a 


A    TIME    OF   NEW    TROUBLE    AND    ANXIETY,       205 

motion  of  his  hand  as  if  to  invite  her  to  rise  and 
leave  the  room.  With  her  hand  which  was  at 
liberty  she  pointed  to  the  woman  sleeping  in  the 
clasp  of  her  other  arm,  and  as  he  declared  after- 
ward, she  also  gave  him  a  glance  of  almost  con- 
temptuous refusal.  "They  have  no  use  forme," 
he  thought,  and  discreetly  left  the  room. 

An  hour  passed  and  then  another — still  the 
patient  slept.  They  called  Mrs.  Bedell  to  her 
supper — she  would  not  change  her  position.  It 
was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  patient  awoke. 
There  was  a  look  of  profound  gratitude  in  her 
eyes,  a  healthy  perspiration  upon  her  forehead, 
and  although  she  was  not  yet  strong  enough  to 
be  clothed,  she  was  beyond  question  in  her  right 
mind. 

The  joyful  news  of  the  miraculous  change  in 
one  patient  was  carried  to  the  other  and  wrought 
an  improvement  in  his  condition  almost  equally 
extraordinary.  His  anxiety  and  loss  of  sleep  on 
Mrs.  Van  Metre's  account  had  so  exhausted  him 
that,  as  soon  as  it  was  removed,  wearied  nature 
reasserted  her  demands.  Even  his  curiosity  to 
hear  why  his  wife  and  boy  had  come  to  him  and 
of  their  adventures  on  their  journey  temporarily 
lost  its  influence.  Just  as  soon  as  it  was  made 
clear  to  him  that  Mrs.  Van  Metre's  fever  had 
been  arrested  and  that  with  proper  care  she  would 
recover,  his  eyelids  grew  heavy  and  he  was  sound 
asleep  before   his  wife   had   finished   her  story. 


206  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"Gentle  sleep,  nature's  soft  nurse,  weighed  the 
eyelids  down  and  steeped  the  senses  in  forgetful- 
ness"  of  both  the  patients  who  had  been  so  long 
and  so  sorely  tried. 

There  is  an  end  even  to  the  sleep  of  the  labor- 
ing man — tired  nature's  sweet  restorer — even  to 
that  which  the  Lord  giveth  to  his  beloved.  When 
Mrs.  Van  Metre  again  awoke,  it  was  to  find  her 
niece  had  been  well  cared  for,  and  relieved  of  that 
anxiety,  she  yielded  herself  to  the  direction  of  her 
new  friend  with  the  docility  of  a  weary  child. 
Mrs.  Bedell  contented  her  with  the  promise  that 
she  would  come  back  to  her  as  soon  as  she  had 
given  her  husband  some  account  of  his  home  and 
her  journey.  For  this  relation  her  husband  was 
now  impatient.  She  told  it  to  him  substantially 
as  follows: 

"Do  you  ask  me  why  I  came  to  you,  Henry?" 
she  said.  "You  should  have  known  that  your 
telegram  would  have  called  me  to  you  from  the 
borders  of  the  grave.  The  story  went  through 
our  town  that  you  were  not  dead — that  you  had 
written  me  a  letter  while  you  were  lying  desper- 
ately wounded  in  the  enemy's  country — then  that 
you  had  reached  Harper's  Ferry  in  safety,  and 
from  that  place  had  sent  me  a  telegram.  The 
neighbors  gathered  at  our  house,  heard  and  dis- 
cussed your  last  dispatch.  They  could  not  under- 
stand why,  if  you  were  well  enough  to  travel,  you 
did  not  come  home.     I  said  that  I  could  read 


A   TIME   OF   NEW   TROUBLE   AND    ANXIETY.      207 

many  things  between  the  lines  of  your  telegram. 
I  knew  that  the  woman  mentioned  in  it  had 
done  you  some  great  service — I  did  not  care  to 
know  what  it  was ;  that  you  considered  yourself 
under  a  great  obligation  to  her ;  that  you  would 
not  leave  her  while  she  was  ill  and  in  great  anxiety 
on  account  of  her  husband — for  one  reason  be- 
cause you  would  know  that  I  wanted  you  to  stay 
with  her  until  she  was  well  or  had  received  some 
news  of  him.  I  was  satisfied,  but  they  were  not. 
They  said  there  must  be  something  that  kept  you 
which  you  could  not  or  would  not  tell  me.  You 
were  either  much  worse  in  health  than  your  gen- 
eral telegraphed  or  you  were  under  arrest !  Any- 
way they  advised  me  to  go  to  you  at  once.  I  said 
I  had  no  money.  They  offered  me  four  times  as 
much  as  I  needed.  You  may  imagine  that  I  did 
not  require  much  urging  to  set  out  on  a  journey 
that  would  bring  me  to  you. 

"  Next  day  I  received  a  railroad  pass  from  our 
good  governor  over  the  railroad  to  New  York 
and  back.  Then  the  neighbors  almost  quarrelled 
over  the  children.  There  were  four  or  five  who 
wanted  them  until  I  returned.  I  supposed  our 
boy  would  go  to  the  father  of  his  inseparable 
comj)anion  whom  you  know.  He  had  said  noth- 
ing, but  he  had  been  thinking.  When  he  spoke, 
he  said  something  like  this :  'If  my  mamma  goes, 
I  am  going  with  her  to  my  father.  He  wants  to 
see  me  just  as  much  as  he  does  her,  and  a  man 

14 


208  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

can  do  him  more  good  than  a  woman.  Then  my 
mother  wants  me.  I  am  not  willing  that  she 
should  start  on  this  long  journey  alone  when  I 
can  go  with  her  and  take  care  of  her.  You 
needn't  try  to  stop  me,  for  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  go.' 

"  I  suppose  the  neighbors  were  ratlier  amused 
by  it,  but  I  felt  proud  of  the  little  fellow's  manli- 
ness. Then  some  one  said  that  as  he  was  under 
ten  years  he  would  go  for  half-fare,  and  the  con- 
ductors might  pass  him  free  if  they  knew  our 
errand.  So  I  consented  that  he  should  go.  We 
started  next  day.  I  cannot  begin  to  tell  you  how 
great  an  assistance  he  has  been  to  me.  He  has 
made  friends  with  every  conductor — he  has  as- 
sured them  that  he  was  taking  his  mother  to  his 
father,  who  had  his  leg  shot  off  in  the  war.  No 
one  asked  him  for  his  fare ;  he  was  manly  but  not 
forward  with  every  one,  and  but  for  him  1  should 
not  have  got  access  to  you  when  we  arrived.  I 
cannot  help  saying  that  I  am  very  proud  of  him. 
This  is  the  whole  of  my  story,  except  to  say  that 
since  you  left  us  every  one  has  been  kind  to  us ; 
and  now,  thank  Heaven !  you  and  I  are  together 
once  more,  and  I  hope  never  again  to  be  parted." 

Then  her  husband  told  his  story  and  gave  her 
a  full  account  of  the  heroic  conduct  of  Mrs.  Van 
Metre.  They  were  both  of  one  mind.  It  was 
their  first  duty  to  protect  her  until  they  had  found 
her  husband  and  restored  him  to  her  loving  arms. 


A  TIME   OF  NEW  TROUBLE   AND   ANXIETY.       209 

When  the  physician  from  the  Green  Moun- 
tains again  returned  to  her  patient  from  the  val- 
ley, it  was  to  find  her  fever  abated  and  the  light 
of  a  new  joy  in  her  eyes.  "I  have  had  such  a 
lovely  dream,"  she  said.  "I  dreamed  that  an 
order  had  been  issued  for  my  husband's  release 
by  the  Secretary  of  War.  I  hope  it  is  one  of  those 
dreams  which  will  prove  true." 

Mrs.  Bedell  had  the  very  great  joy  of  assuring 
her  that  it  was  no  dream,  but  a  fact  which  during 
her  fever  she  would  not  believe.  "Your  hus- 
band's discharge  is  ordered,"  she  said.  "Nor  is 
that  the  best  part  of  the  news.  The  conduct  of 
his  wife  is  commended  by  the  Secretary  of  War 
as  an  example  for  the  imitation  of  the  good  wo- 
men of  the  world." 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE  AFFLICTIONS  OF  THE  MULE-OWNER — PREPA- 
RATIONS FOR  THE  SEARCH  FOR  A  PRISONER 
OF  WAR — THE  SEPARATION  OF   THE   FRIENDS. 

The  proprietor  of  the  mules  had  waited  pa- 
tiently until  the  sick  were  convalescent,  and  Le 
now  insisted  that  the  contract  with  him  should 
be  carried  out  by  the  delivery  of  his  animals.  The 
quartermaster  rather  mischievously  insisted  that 
he  did  not  see  why  one  mule  was  not  just  as 
good  as  another,  and  that  if  the  farmer  was  per- 
mitted to  select  a  pair  from  the  stock  at  Harper's 
Ferry  he  ought  to  be  satisfied.  But  that  ar- 
rangement no  amount  of  bourbon  fluid  would  in- 
duce him  to  accept.  He  undertook  to  satisfy  the 
quartermaster  that  he  ought  to  have  his  own  ani- 
mals. His  argument  promised  to  be  entertain- 
ing, and  was  delivered  in  the  presence  of  a  large 
and  amused  audience.  Inspired  by  a  draught  of 
stimulating  fluid,  he  began : 

"I  s'pose  them  mules  ov  mine  is  pretty  much 
spiled  by  this  time,"  he  sighed;  "no  mules  could 
stan'  what  they've  had  to  go  through,  I  reckon." 

" There  ib  no  possible  ground  for  your  fears," 

210 


THE   AiTFLICTIONS   OF   THE   MULE-OWNER.        211 

said  the  quartermaster.  "  The  mules  from  Mar- 
tinsburg  have  not  been  harnessed  smce  the  army 
moved.  They  have  been  well  fed  and  ought 
to  be  in  better  condition  than  when  they  were 
captured." 

"It's  their  morrils  I'm  afeard  on.  It's  an 
awful  resk.  Look  what  company  them  mules 
has  had  to  keep.  They're  soshiated  with  them 
ornary  army  mules.  An  army  mule  will  spile 
anything  not  made  of  cast-iron.  I  was  once  got 
into  a  heap  ov  trouble  by  an  army  mule.  They're 
the  dangerousest,  deceavinest  hoss-kind  that  ever 
was  foaled.  They're  artful  enuff  to  cheat  old 
Nick  himself." 

"I  should  think  so  if  they  were  too  sharp  for 
a  valley  farmer.  But  tell  me  how  they  cheated 
you." 

"It  was  this  way.  I  foun'  one  ov  them  mules 
a-draggin'  ov  his  halter  —  a-strayin'  onto  the 
pike.  I  picked  up  the  halter.  Why,  he  was  the 
innocentest  lookin'  creetur — no  butter  wouldn't 
melt  into  his  mouth.  I  went  up  an'  patted  him 
on  the  back.  He  kind  ov  sidled  up  to  me  hke  he 
wanted  to  be  friendly — I  scratched  him  an'  he 
sidled  up  some  more.  His  head  was  a-droopin' — 
his  long  ears  slowly  floppin'  up  an'  down.  His 
eyes  was  mostly  shet,  but  I  ort  to  have  known 
that  a  look  outen  one  corner  ov  his  eye  meant 
deviltry.  But  I  didn't.  The  rest  ov  him  was  so 
lamb -like  that  I  never  thot  ov  his  eye.     I  said  to 


212  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

myself,  'This  poor  mule  has  got  lost — he  ort  to 
be  took  care  of  or  he'll  starve.  I'll  lead  him 
home  and  give  him  a  feed. '  So  I  started  to  lead 
him  to  my  stable.  But  he  braced  out  his  four 
feet  an'  wouldn't  go — jest  stood  still  an'  shook 
his  head  as  if  he  meant,  'No  go. '  Still  he  seemed 
'fectionate.  He  kep'  movin'  round  an'  kinder 
sidlin'  up  to  me.  I  was  pattin'  him  back  of  his 
hips  an'  a-sayin'  to  myself,  'They  ain't  many  men 
as  knows  how  to  manage  a  mule — most  men 
would  whale  this  mule  with  a  black-jack ;  that 
would  hurt  his  feelin's  an'  make  him  contr'y; 
the  way  to  manage  a  mule  is  to  treat  him  softly 
— to  reason  with  him.  Now  a  mule  is  a  good 
deal  like  a  man — see  how  easy  I  can  manage  this 
one.     I  coax  an'  pat  him  an'  he  rubs  up  agin' 

me  jest  like  a  pet  dog  or  a  kit ' 

"Jest  then  I  was  struck  by  suthin' — I  thot  it 
was  the  butt-end  of  a  telegraph-pole.  Suthin' 
dropped  —  it  was  me.  The  very  stuffin'  was 
knocked  outen  me.  When  I  kem  to  myself  I  was 
a-layin'  on  my  back  in  the  middle  of  the  pike. 
Abuv  an'  round  me  was  a  thick  cloud  of  dust, 
an'  in  it,  buzzin'  an'  whizzin'  an'  cris-crossin' 
every  way,  was  about  ten  thousand  mules'  hind 
legs  an'  hoofs.  It  looked  scary.  I  crawled  right 
out  ov  that  cloud,  an'  there  as  I  lay  on  the 
ground,  that  cussed  mule  winked  at  me!  Yes, 
sir,  he  winked  at  me !  His  latter  end  was  cavort- 
in'  an'  kickin'  up  all  that  cloud  of  dust  an'  mules' 


THE   AFFLICTIONS   OF   THE   MULE-OWNER.       213 

feet,  an'  the  other  end  was  wavin'  his  ears  an' 
mimchin'  a  Canada  thistle! 

"Jest  then  along  come  a  nigger.  'Sampson,' 
I  said,  'tie  up  that  ar  mule  to  a  tree — cut  a  hick- 
ory gad  an'  whale  him  tell  he  squeals!' 

"'Scuse  me,'  said  that  nigger,  'that  is  Uncle 
Sam's  mule.  I  wouldn't  dar  hit  him  wid  a  stick. 
Don't  you  see  de  brand  U.  S. — Uncle  Sam?'  An' 
then  up  kem  a  teamster.  '  Here,  you  cussed 
mule !'  he  said.  '  What  do  you  mean  by  running 
away?  Who  you  consortin'  with?'  An'  I'll  be 
d — d  if  that  cussed  mule  didn't  trot  up  to  that 
teamster  an'  lay  his  head  over  the  man's  shoul- 
der an'  laff — yes,  sir,  he  fairly  snorted!  'Yes, 
yes!  I  see,'  said  the  man.  'Was  they  tryin'  to 
steal  you,  Bob?  and  did  you  have  a  little  fun 
with  'em?'  An'  then  he  laffed  some  more.  An' 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  have  nothin'  more  to  do 
with  no  army  mules.  I  want  my  own  mules 
that  I  raised — that's  got  some  morril  principle. 
Sooner  than  take  a  pa'r  of  army  mules,  I'd  change 
the  wounded  officer  for  three  fingers  of  whiskey." 

"You  shall  have  your  own  mules,  characters 
warranted,  and  the  whiskey  besides,"  said  the 
quartermaster.  "You  deserve  them  for  your 
story,  as  well  as  for  bringing  in  our  officer.  But 
you  must  be  patient  until  I  can  arrange  for  their 
delivery." 

Although  the  order  of  Secretary  Stanton  im- 
plied that  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  finding 


214  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

Van  Metre,  it  was  the  strong  conviction  of  Bedell 
that  the  search  for  him  would  be  long  and  weary. 
He  was  decided  not  to  leave  his  benefactress 
until  he  knew  that  the  search  was  successful. 
There  were  many  arrangements  for  him  to  make 
while  awaiting  her  recovery.  This  was  progress- 
ing favorably  under  the  influence  of  the  nurse 
from  the  Green  Mountains.  The  latter 's  good 
sense  and  care  gave  her  popularity  among  the 
officers  at  Harper's  Ferry.  She  was  a  modest, 
simple,  warm-hearted,  but  an  intensely  thorough 
woman.  She  was  naturally  reserved — her  activ- 
ity only  appeared  when  the  necessity  arose.  Then 
her  reserve  force  was  immense,  and  she  seldom 
undertook  anything  which  she  did  not  accomplish. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  she  was  esteemed  and 
honored  by  all  who  knew  her,  and  by  those  of  her 
own  sex  beloved. 

The  universal  favorite  of  the  officers  of  the  post ' 
was  the  Green  Mountain  boy  of  ten  years,  son  of 
the  wounded  officer  and  his  efficient  wife.  The 
youngster  assumed  all  the  duties  and  responsibili- 
ties of  manhood.  The  attentions  of  others  were 
pleasant  to  him,  he  said,  but  really  he  could  not 
afford  them  much  time.  He  had  none  for  mere 
pleasure  or  curiosity.  He  must  look  after  his 
mother ;  she  wanted  his  close  attention  now  that 
she  had  taken  charge  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre.  He 
could  not  leave  his  father  to  the  carelessness  of 
servants  now  that  his  son  was  on  the  ground. 


PREPARATIONS   FOR   THE   SEARCH.  215 

The  little  time  he  could  save  from  his  father  and 
mother  should  be  devoted,  he  said,  to  military 
studies  and  practical  work  to  qualify  him  to  take 
his  father's  place  in  the  regiment,  for  he  would 
never  be  able  to  take  the  field  again.  He  accepted, 
however,  an  honorary  appointment  to  the  Sixth 
Corps  and  his  father's  regiment,  and  when,  deco- 
rated with  the  Greek  cross  and  the  cap  and  dress 
uniform  of  the  corps,  he  was  seen  moving  about 
the  camp  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  no  one 
could  fail  to  see  that  he  was  a  born  soldier.  Gen- 
eral Stevenson  would  have  given  him  the  title 
of  brevet  colonel,  but  he  would  not  consent  to 
outrank  his  father.  He  was  known  throughout 
the  camp  as  the  little  colonel.  He  was  a  credit 
to  the  regiment  as  well  as  to  himself. 

One  matter  which  Bedell  felt  bound  to  arrange 
was  the  contract  about  the  mules.  Those  which 
the  old  farmer  identified  at  Martinsburg  were 
found  to  bear  the  brand  of  the  United  States.  In- 
stead of  surrendering  them,  the  officer  in  charge 
threatened  to  arrest  the  claimant.  He.  mean- 
while, was  faring  so  well  in  the  camj)  and  enjoy- 
ing such  an  abundant  supply  of  his  favorite  fluids 
that  he  was  in  no  haste  to  bring  his  case  to  an 
issue.  But  Bedell  brought  the  matter  to  the  at- 
tention of  General  Stevenson,  who  cut  the  knot  of 
the  difficulty  in  a  soldierly  fashion.  He  ordered 
all  the  mules  from  Martinsburg  to  Harper's 
Ferry.     When  they  arrived  the  farmer  selected 


216  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

his  beloved  animals,  and  the  general  gave  him  a 
certificate  that  he  held  them  by  virtue  of  an  ex- 
change for  a  Federal  officer  whom  he  had  de- 
livered within  the  Union  lines.  He  went  away 
happy,  and  carried  with  him  several  valuable 
presents  for  Dick  and  his  wife  Ginny  and  for 
Peter  Dennis.  These  were  delighted  to  know  that 
they  were  not  forgotten  by  their  mistress  nor  the 
wounded  officer. 

Then  it  was  necessary  to  consult  the  paymaster. 
To  his  credit  it  should  be  recorded  that  he  inter- 
posed no  obstacles.  He  assisted  Bedell  to  prepare 
his  accounts,  and  the  liberal  supply  of  new  and 
crisp  greenbacks  which  he  paid  him  was  quite 
adequate  to  the  wants  of  the  entire  party. 

But  when  the  lieutenant's  application  for  leave 
of  absence,  founded  upon  his  crippled  condition, 
in  order  that  he  might  accompany  Mrs.  Van  Metre 
in  the  search  for  her  husband,  was  presented  to 
Secretary  Stanton,  instead  of  being  granted  it 
was  marked  suspended,  and  Bedell  was  ordered  to 
report  himself  to  the  Secretary  of  War  in  Wash- 
ington, and  as  soon  as  she  was  able  to  travel  to 
bring  Mrs.  Van  Metre  with  him.  This  check 
was  very  discouraging.  It  was  inexplicable,  in- 
asmuch as  the  facts  upon  which  the  leave  of  ab- 
sence was  asked  were  certified  by  the  surgeon  of 
the  regiment  and  by  General  Stevenson.  But 
Bedell  was  a  soldier,  and  notwithstanding  the 
reputation  of  the  terrible  Secretary  for  inhuman- 


PREPARATIONS   FOR   THE   SEARCH.  217 

ity  and  a  total  want  of  human  sympathy,  he  re- 
solved promptly  to  comply  with  the  order  of  his 
superior  officer. 

Under  the  constant  watchfulness  of  her  nurse 
and  physician  the  improvement  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre 
was  rajDid.  Her  gentle  ways,  her  cheerful  sub- 
mission to  the  directions  of  her  energetic  friend, 
won  the  hearts  of  all  the  ladies  of  the  post,  who 
were  delighted  in  spite  of  her  protests  to  make 
provision  for  all  her  wants  which  their  sharp 
eyes  could  discover.  A  consultation  with  her  was 
indispensable  before  the  future  course  of  the 
friends  could  be  determined.  Bedell  wanted  to 
hasten  it,  but  his  wife  would  not  permit  it  to  take 
place  until  she  knew  that  all  danger  of  a  relapse 
had  passed. 

A  bright,  crisp  November  morning  came,  when 
a  suitable  carriage  was  found  and  one  of  our 
heroines  took  the  other  for  a  drive  into  the 
country. 

The  driver  improved  the  occasion  to  impress 
upon  the  mind  of  her  companion  the  fact  that  she 
was  still  physically  weak  and  that  she  must  sub- 
mit without  resistance  to  whatever  plans  for  con- 
ducting the  search  for  her  husband  should  be 
adopted  in  the  council  of  her  friends. 

"It  would  be  idle  for  me  to  undertake  any  op- 
position to  you,"  said  the  gentle  convalescent, 
"for  I  am  conscious  that  I  could  not  succeed. 
From  that  first  night  when  you  came  to  me  you 


318  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

have  been  able  to  control  me  at  your  will.  I  do' 
not  regret  it,  for  you  have  won  my  entire  confi- 
dence." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  replied  Mrs. 
Bedell,  "for  I  want  something  from  you." 

"What  is  it,  pray?  What  have  I  in  my  pov- 
erty which  could  be  useful  to  you?" 

"I  want  your  niece — I  want  to  take  her  home 
with  me  to  the  mountains.  My  husband  seems 
to  have  come  to  believe  in  dreams.  He  thinks 
he  has  had  a  kind  of  revelation  about  your  hus- 
band. He  anticipates  great  difficulty  in  finding 
him.  But  he  declares  nevertheless  that  he  will 
find  him  and  bring  him  to  our  home  in  Vermont. 
Your  niece  cannot  helj)  you  in  the  search.  I 
will  take  her  with  me  and  love  her  as  though 
she  were  m}^  daughter,  and  when  you  come  to  us 
I  will  give  her  back  to  you." 

"Perhaps  your  plan  may  prove  to  be  the 
wisest, "  replied  Mrs.  Van  Metre.  "  I  am  not  shed- 
ding tears  of  sorrow.  They  come  unbidden  when 
I  think  what  a  friend  you  are  in  my  loneliness. 
I  will  consider  your  request.  I  know  I  shall  do 
what  you  ask  in  the  end." 

The  ride  seemed  to  give  strength  to  the  patient, 
and  it  knit  these  two  souls  together  in  the  bonds 
of  an  enduring  friendshii).  There  was  a  council 
in  which  Mrs.  Van  Metre  took  her  full  share.  It 
was  decided  that  the  little  colonel  should  take 
charge  of  his  mother  and  the  Virginia  girl  of  his 


PREPARATIONS  FOR   THE   SEARCH.  219 

own  age,  and  escort  them  to  the  home  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Green  Mountams.  The  Keutenant 
and  Mrs.  Van  Metre  would  proceed  to  Washing- 
ton, take  up  the  search  for  her  hushand,  and  never 
discontinue  it  until  they  found  him.  Then  the 
three  would  go  to  Vermont,  where  all,  reunited, 
would  remain  until  this  cruel  war  was  over. 
They  would  separate  now  as  soon  as  the  arrange- 
ments could  be  perfected. 

Mrs.  Bedell  now  decided  that  Mrs.  Van  Metre 
was  sufficiently  strong  to  begin  her  quest.  She 
could  not  be  expected  to  restrain  her  impatience 
against  farther  delay.  Her  niece  had  become 
attached  to  Mrs.  Bedell  and  was  a  great  favorite 
with  the  little  colonel.  A  re -examination  of  the 
cordial  letter  of  General  Hitchcock  convinced 
them  that  they  had  not  so  much  to  fear  from  the 
terrible  Secretary,  and  they  were  ready  to  leave 
Harper's  Ferry. 

Neither  of  them  could  leave  a  place  where  they 
had  received  so  much  kiudness  without  regret. 
When  on  a  bright  winter's  morning  they  found 
at  the  station  the  veteran  Stevenson,  many  of 
the  officers  of  the  post,  with  the  ladies  of  their 
families,  and  a  multitude  of  private  soldiers,  as- 
sembled to  bid  them  farewell,  they  knew  the  re- 
gret of  the  parting  was  not  confined  to  the  casual 
visitors.  All  the  officers  who  had  heard  the  story 
of  what  this  woman  of  the  valley  had  done  for 
one  of  their  comrades  were  there  to  tender  her 


220  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

their  respectful  admiration,  to  bid  her  God-speed ; 
other  wives  to  thank  her  for  the  noble  example 
she  had  set  before  the  women  of  the  country. 
All  knew  that  her  own  life  had  been  saved  by 
the  active  skill  of  the  woman  from  the  Green 
Mountains,  and  energy  is  admired  by  the  soldier 
almost  as  highly  as  courage. 

The  lieutenant  was  looked  upon  as  one  raised 
from  the  dead,  and  the  little  colonel  was  the  fa- 
vorite of  all. 

The  latter  was  full  of  business;  but  he  did 
not  lose  his  head  for  a  moment.  Coolness  was  a 
special  quality  of  Sedgwick's  old  Sixth  Corps, 
and  in  the  presence  of  these  veterans  he  had  the 
reputation  of  the  Vermont  brigade  to  sustain, 
and  he  did  it  well.  He  declined  all  assistance. 
His  father  had  been  provided  with  transportation. 
He  had  procured  seats,  and  when  the  veteran 
general  with  moistened  eyes  and  trembling  voice 
had  bidden  Mrs.  Van  Metre  farewell  with  the 
courtesy  of  a  brave  officer,  he  had  only  to  escort 
her  to  her  place.  Lieutenant  Bedell  followed. 
The  little  colonel  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  as 
the  train  moved  slowly  out  of  the  station  he 
swung  his  cap  and  called  for  three  cheers  for 
Mrs.  Van  Metre.  His  call  was  responded  to  with 
a  will  which  made  the  station  ring  from  its  base 
xo  the  highest  turret  above  its  roof.  Nor  was 
the  response  less  emphatic  when  some  soldier 
proposed  cheers  for  the  departing  officer. 


THE   SEPARATION   OF   THE   FRIENDS.  221 

The  boy's  work  was  nearly  done.  There  was 
a  proud  look  in  the  mother's  eye  and  an  amused 
expression  on  her  face  as  she  took  his  proffered 
arm  and  was  led  into  the  car,  to  the  seat  next  the 
one  in  which  he  had  already  placed  the  young 
Virginian  guest.  Then  when  General  Stevenson 
cordially  took  her  hand  and  declared  that  he 
would  make  the  future  of  her  son  his  special 
care,  and  the  boy  took  leave  with  the  grace  of  a 
gentleman  of  every  one  who  had  come  to  see  the 
party  take  their  departure,  it  is  not  strange  that 
her  bosom  swelled  with  some  natural  pride. 
The  boy  stood  upon  the  rear  platform  of  the  last 
car  and  swung  his  cap  as  the  train  moved  out  of 
the  station,  and  the  salute  of  cheers  which  fol- 
lowed him  was  loud  enough  to  drown  the  ringing 
of  bells  and  the  shrieking  of  steam-whistles.  The 
train  which  moved  northward  bore  a  happy, 
grateful,  affectionate,  and  proud  wife  and  mother 
— grateful  for  the  preservation  of  her  husband, 
happy  in  his  return,  affectionate  toward  his  pre- 
server, and  proud  of  her  son.  That  which  moved 
southward  carried  a  brave  and  honorable  soldier 
and  a  noble  and  true  wife,  who  now  was  com- 
forted by  the  reflection  that  she  had  done  her 
duty,  but  whose  heart  was  sad  and  sorrowful 
because  her  future  still  seemed  dark  and  inscru- 
table. 

And  so  they  separated,  followed  by  the  kindly 
wishes  of  many  friends,  two  of  them  to  search 


222  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

after  the  person  indispensable  to  the  happiness  of 
both  families,  the  others  to  go  to  Vermont  and 
wait  for  the  reunion.  There  in  due  season  they 
safely  arrived — and  there  for  the  present  our 
story  leaves  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN  THE  DEN  OF  THE  OGRE,  THE  TERRIBLE 
SECRETARY. 

Upon  their  arrival  in  Washington,  Bedell  went 
to  a  well-known  friend  of  Vermonters  who  held 
a  position  in  the  civil  service  of  the  Government, 
and  asked  him  to  go  with  them  when  they  called 
upon  the  much-dreaded  Secretary.  The  friend, 
who  had  the  advantage  of  a  personal  acquaintance 
with  the  chief  of  the  War  Department,  declined 
the  invitation.  He  knew  something  of  the  offi- 
cer's story,  and  he  also  knew  that  the  characters 
in  it  would  need  no  other  introduction.  He 
assured  the  lieutenant  that  he  might  lay  aside 
all  his  anxiety,  as  he  would  probably  find  the 
Secretary  one  of  the  most  agreeable  gentlemen 
he  had  ever  encountered. 

His  friend  could  not  remove  Bedell's  appre- 
hensions. When  the  time  came  for  them  to  go 
to  the  War  Department,  he  afterward  declared 
that  he  showed  the  white  feather  for  the  first 
and  only  time  in  his  military  career.  He  would 
have  preferred  to  lead  a  charge  against  a  battery 
of  artillery,  but  when  he  reflected  that  he  was 

15  223 


224  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

performing  his  duty  and  obeying  an  order,  his 
judgment  reasserted  itself  and  to  some  extent 
suppressed  his  fear. 

On  their  way  to  the  War  Office,  much  to  their 
surprise,  they  found  themselves  attracting  gen- 
eral attention.  They  were  the  observed  of  all 
observers.  Those  whom  they  met  upon  the  broad 
sidewalk  turned  to  allow  them  to  pass  and  then 
followed  them  with  their  eyes.  They  were  quite 
unconscious  of  their  unusual  appearance.  The 
lieutenant,  six  feet  and  three  or  four  inches  in 
height,  in  his  new  uniform,  which  fitted  his  gigan- 
tic figure,  now  filled  out  almost  to  its  normal 
proportions;  his  head  erect,  his  eyes  full  of 
energy  and  fire,  with  one-fourth  of  his  body  car- 
ried away,  compelled  to  assist  his  remaining  leg 
with  the  awkward  wooden  supports  under  his 
shoulders — by  his  side  the  small,  girlish  figure  of 
the  woman  of  the  valley,  very  trim  in  her  neat, 
dark  travelling  suit  provided  by  her  many 
friends  at  Harper's  Ferry,  her  face  concealed 
under  the  folds  of  a  half-mourning  veil,  which 
she  could  not  be  persuaded  that  she  should  not 
wear — together  made  a  picture  which  was  im- 
pressive even  in  a  city  not  unaccustomed  to  strik- 
ing and  remarkable  exhibitions. 

One  of  their  experiences  was  long  remembered. 
There  was  a  French  vessel  of  war  at  that  time  in 
the  Potomac  Kiver,  and  a  considerable  party  of 
her  sailors  were  that  day  enjoying  their  leave  on 


THE   TERRIBLE   SECRETARY.  225 

shore.  They  were  in  excellent  spirits,  rollicking 
along  the  avenue,  here  pausing  to  look  at  a  pub- 
lic building,  again  inspecting  and  discussing  in 
their  lively  foreign  tongue  anything  peculiar 
which  attracted  their  notice.  Their  eyes  fell 
upon  the  singular  pair  coming  toward  them,  one 
of  whom  they  promptly  assumed  was  a  recently 
wounded  officer.  There  was  a  sharp  word  of 
command  in  their  foreign  speech.  It  did  not 
seem  an  instant  when  they  were  formed  in  two 
lines  facing  each  other  on  the  opposite  borders  of 
the  footway.  Then  there  was  another  order. 
Each  man  removed  his  cap,  held  it  in  his  hand, 
and  bowed  his  head.  And  there  they  stood,  not 
boldly  gazing  into  the  faces  of  the  pedestrians, 
but  with  eyes  directed  to  the  ground,  until  the 
wounded  officer  and  his  companion  had  passed 
between  them  and  were  some  distance  on  their 
way.  Then  the  Frenchmen  broke  ranks  and  re- 
sumed their  promenade.  It  was  a  simple  act, 
but  it  was  noble  in  its  simplicity.  It  was  the 
natural,  involuntary  tribute  of  gentlemen  wear- 
ing the  uniform  of  common  sailors  to  bravery 
and  virtue.  Had  they  know  the  history  of  the 
pair,  their  tribute  could  not  have  been  more  effec- 
tive or  more  touching. 

And  so  they  made  their  way  to  the  reception- 
room  of  the  Secretary  of  War ;  that  room  which 
saw  so  many  hopes  dashed  to  destruction,  so 
many  scenes  of  sorrow  and  despair.     After  the 


226  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

summer  of  1S62  there  were  few  mornings  when 
it  was  not  crowded.  There  were  men  and  wo- 
men there  of  all  kinds  and  descriptions.  There 
were  speculators,  dishonest  contractors,  thieves, 
knaves,  bankrupt  in  money  and  character,  and 
alas !  so  many  with  sad  faces  and  weary  hearts, 
whom  the  relentless  hand  of  war  had  sorely 
stricken.  All  these  were  petitioners  for  some- 
thing forbidden  by  the  stern  rules  of  cruel  war. 
Our  friends  were  approached  by  the  colored  mes- 
senger, to  whom  the  lieutenant  presented  his  card 
with  the  request  that  it  be  shown  to  the  Secre- 
tary. It  bore  the  names  of  Lieutenant  Bed'ell, 
Eleventh  Vermont  Volunteers,  and  Mrs.  Van 
Metre. 

A  number  of  applicants  had  already  preceded 
them  that  morning.  They  expected  to  wait  until 
all  these  had  been  presented  to  the  Secretary. 
To  their  surprise  the  messenger  immediately  re- 
turned and  said  to  them  in  a  low  voice:  "The 
Secretary  desires  to  see  you  at  once.     Follow  me !" 

They  were  conducted  through  one  room  into 
another.  It  was  not  that  small,  dark  one  with  a 
railing  across  one  corner,  behind  which  the  Sec- 
retary had  stood  so  many  times  and  dashed  so 
many  hopes  to  the  earth  by  his  curt  "  No !  it  can't 
be  done!"  but  another,  through  the  open  door 
of  which  they  saw  a  short  man  with  glasses  and 
a  heavy  beard  seated  at  a  desk,  with  huge  piles 
of  folded  papers  around  and  on  every  side  of  him. 


THE   TERRIBLE   SECRETARY.  227 

As  their  names  were  announced  and  they  were 
advancing  with  a  slow  and  hesitating  step,  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  came  quickly  forward  to  meet 
them,  took  the  hand  of  the  half -terrified  w^oman 
in  his  warm  and  cordial  grasp,  and  said  in  a 
voice  which  rang  with  its  own  clear  sincerity: 

"  Madam,  you  are  a  noble  woman,  and  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  meet  you."  Still  holding  her  hand  he 
continued  :  "  You  have  met  with  a  great  misfor- 
tune, lieutenant,  in  the  loss  of  your  limb,  but  that 
loss  w^as  in  some  sense  a  blessing  when  it  brought 
you  such  a  friend." 

Both  were  too  much  surprised  to  reply.  Each 
felt  that  something  ought  to  be  said.  Mrs.  Van 
Metre  first  recovered  herself  and  managed,  with 
a  broken  voice  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  to  say : 
"But  I  am  a  Southern  woman,  Mr,  Stanton." 

"I  know  you  are,"  he  said,  "and  that  is  why 
your  kindness  to  one  of  our  wounded  officers  is 
such  an  act  of  charity — that  greatest  as  it  is  the 
loveliest  of  all  the  virtues.  I  know  that  your 
husband  is  a  Confederate  soldier,  and  I  hope  he 
is  as  brave  and  true  in  his  sphere  as  you  are  in 
yours.  It  is  faint  praise  of  you  to  say  that  you 
are  an  honor  to  your  sex.  I  can  and  do  say  most 
sincerely  that  I  wish  every  woman  North  and 
South  would  emulate  your  example.  I  do  not 
ask  you  to  be  seated,"  he  continued,  "for  here, 
in  the  pressure  of  business,  I  cannot  converse 
with  both  of  you  as   I   wish.     Besides,  I   have 


228  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

promised  one  of  your  sex,  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  for 
whom  I  have  a  high  esteem,  that  she  shall  hear 
your  story  from  your  own  lips.  Will  you  both 
favor  me  with  a  call  at  my  house  about  eight 
o'clock  this  evening?" 

What  could  they  say  but  yes?  A  quick  move- 
ment of  his  hand  indicated  that  their  audience 
was  over.  In  another  moment  this  busiest  of 
men  was  at  his  desk,  buried  beneath  his  ever-in- 
creasing mountain  of  jmblic  duties,  and  his  visitors 
were  shown  to  the  street  by  another  exit. 

The  lieutenant  felt  the  hand  of  his  companion 
trembling  upon  his  arm,  and  he  knew  that  behind 
her  thick  veil  she  was  silently  weeping  tears,  not 
of  sorrow,  but  of  gratitude.  He  made  no  obser- 
vation until  they  reached  their  hotel  and  were 
about  to  separate.     Then  he  said : 

"I  have  great  hopes  of  Secretary  Stanton.  I 
think  he  intends  to  assist  us." 

"  And  so  have  I, "  she  replied.  "  God  bless  him ! 
How  different  he  is  from  what  I  supposed,"  she 
added  fervently. 

They  separated,  he  enjoining  her  to  compose 
herself  for  the  evening.  The  lieutenant  was  sur- 
prised by  the  number  of  cards  left  for  him,  for 
he  was  yet  to  learn  with  what  facility  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  press  may  elevate  a  modest  man 
to  celebrity.  Several  of  these  gentlemen  were 
waiting  in  the  drawing-room  to  interview  him, 
and  their  numbers  were  increasing.     His  natural 


THE  TEREIBLE   SECRETARY.  229 

good  sense  showed  him,  when  they  first  assailed 
him  with  questions,  that  it  would  be  unwise  to 
open  his  lijDS  until  he  had  told  his  story  to  the 
Secretary  and  taken  his  advice.  He  undertook 
to  maintain  that  position  and  to  treat  his  inquis- 
itors with  civility.  He  supposed  he  had  done  so 
and  that  he  had  disclosed  nothing  about  Mrs. 
Van  Metre  or  himself,  until  he  saw  the  evening 
journals.  Then,  to  his  astonishment,  he  saw  his 
own  portrait  and  one  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  v/hich 
was  wholly  imaginary,  and  under  it  an  equally 
imaginary  account  of  his  recent  experiences, 
which  purported  to  have  been  written  from  his 
own  dictation. 

This  experience  was  so  disagreeable  to  the 
lieutenant  and  his  charge  that  if  so  much  had 
not  depended  on  the  friendship  of  Secretary  Stan- 
ton, they  would  have  invented  some  excuse  for 
breaking  their  engagement  to  call  upon  him  in 
the  evening.  But  he  left  them  no  opportunity 
to  escape.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  a  mes- 
senger brought  them  a  note  requesting  them  to 
be  in  readiness  at  an  hour  named,  when  a  carriage 
would  call  to  convey  them  to  his  residence.  Ob- 
viously it  was  useless  to  contend  against  all  the 
resources  of  the  Government,  and  like  sensible 
persons  who  had  encountered  an  irresistible  force, 
they  submitted  without  farther  resistance. 

Their  evening  at  the  modest  residence  of  Mr. 
Stanton  on  Franklin  Square  was  memorable  to 


^30  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

themselves  and  a  considerable  number  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who  were  invited  to  meet  them. 
They  did  not  know  until  long  afterward  that 
the  gathering  comprised  some  of  the  most  conspic- 
uous representatives  of  European  powers,  as  well 
as  our  own  Eepublic.  There  were  few  introduc- 
tions :  there  was  such  an  absence  of  all  formality 
and  such  cordiality  was  manifested  by  the  ladies 
that  Mrs.  Van  Metre  lost  her  timidity  and  felt  that 
she  was  among  friends  who  sympathized  with  her 
in  her  trials.  Nor  was  the  experience  of  the  lieu- 
tenant very  difficult.  Almost  before  he  was  con- 
scious of  the  situation,  he  was  eloquently  relating 
the  story  of  her  energetic  labors  which  had  un- 
questionably saved  his  life.  He  was  a  plain  man, 
this  Vermonter,  with  a  limited  vocabulary  and 
unpracticed  in  speech ;  but  when  he  sketched  the 
picture  of  that  cheerless  room  where  he  lay  de- 
serted, helpless,  and  almost  hoping  for  death,  and 
told  the  story  of  her  entrance,  and  how  bravely 
she  met  the  king  of  terrors,  fought  with  and, 
notwithstanding  all  his  advantages,  finally  de- 
feated him  in  the  long,  fierce  battle  for  the  life  of 
the  wounded,  helpless  man ;  how  she  took  him 
into  her  own  despoiled  home  and  by  her  cool 
bravery  procured  the  means  and  by  their  skilful 
use  finally  saved  him,  the  spell-bound  company 
listened  with  breathless  interest  and  their  hearts 
were  moved  with  the  tenderest  sympath3\  Those 
who  did  not  know  him  were  accustomed  to  say 


THE   TERRIBLE    SECRETARY.  231 

that  no  tale  of  suffering  could  soften  the  flinty 
heart  of  the  great  war  Secretary.  Those  who 
saw  him  that  evening  knew  better,  for  at  times 
it  was  evident  that  a  considerable  effort  was 
necessary  to  enable  him  to  suppress  his  emotions, 
A  writer  of  eminence  who  was  present  declared 
that  the  pages  of  English  literature  held  no  story 
more  touching,  no  clearer  proof  that  truth  was 
sometimes  stranger  than  fiction.  The  voice, 
manner,  and  bearing  of  the  narrator  were  a  sat- 
isfactory test  of  the  truth  of  his  story. 

The  modest,  brave  wife,  the  preserver  of  the  now 
strong  and  vigorous  though  crippled  officer,  was 
compelled  to  listen  in  silence  to  her  own  praises. 
The  ladies  vied  with  each  other  in  their  efforts  to 
encourage  and  cheer  her.  They  made  her  feel  that 
although  she  was  among  the  women  of  the  North, 
she  was  surrounded  with  friends  who  would  spare 
no  exertions  to  serve  her. 

Lieutenant  Bedell  did  not  miss  the  opportunity 
to  show  to  the  Secretary  the  immediate  and,  for 
the  time,  the  exclusive  object  of  his  life.  It  was 
to  find  the  husband  of  his  benefactress  and  re- 
store him  to  his  home.  He  related  how  he  had 
parted  from  his  own  wife,  who  had  willingly 
gone  to  his  Vermont  home  that  he  might  exe- 
cute his  search  without  anxiety  on  her  account 
or  that  of  his  children.  How  far  he  succeeded 
in  interesting  those  who  then  listened  to  his  story 
the  reader  may  infer  from  the  parting  words  of 


832  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

his  host.  Holding  both  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Van 
Metre,  now  overcome  by  kindness  and  tremulous 
with  emotion,  he  said  : 

"  Madam,  I  know  of  nothing  in  the  history  of 
woman  more  meritorious  than  your  conduct. 
We  read  in  the  Book  of  Books  that  'a  virtuous 
wife  is  a  crown  to  her  husband. '  You  are  that 
and  more — you  are  an  honor  to  your  country  and 
your  sex.  I  hope  your  trials  are  nearly  over — 
that  the  order  for  his  discharge  has  already 
reached  your  husband.  If  it  has  not,  if  you  have 
any  difficulty  in  finding  him,  the  resources  of  my 
department  will  be  prompt  to  assist  you.  You 
have  earned  the  right  to  command  them.  Every 
gentleman  in  the  service  will,  with  me,  esteem  it 
an  honor  to  assist  you." 

So  they  took  their  leave  of  the  man  she  had  so 
much  feared,  her  heart  full  of  the  new  hope 
which  his  kindness  had  inspired — of  gratitude  to 
the  Almighty,  who  had  shown  her  the  path  of  duty 
and  given  her  strength  to  follow  it.  That  night 
she  rested  peacefully  and  the  next  morning 
awakened  with  renewed  courage  for  the  duty  be- 
fore her. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE   FIRST   FAILURE   IN   THE   SEARCH. 

The  order  for  the  release  of  Van  Metre  as  a 
prisoner  of  war  had  been  issued  by  the  Secretary 
upon  the  theory  that  he  was  then  confined  in  a 
certain  camp  of  Confederate  prisoners.  His  wife 
had  not  been  greatly  elated  by  the  dispatch  of 
the  Secretary  and  the  letter  of  General  Hitchcock 
which  had  followed  it,  for  if  he  was  confined  in 
that  camp  there  was  no  explanation  for  his  long 
silence.  By  the  direction  of  the  Secretary,  Bedell 
prepared  a  paper  giving  a  description  of  Van 
Metre.  This  paper  was  sent  to  the  proper  officer 
for  a  report.  It  came  very  promptly.  It  stated 
that  Van  Metre  was  captured  in  the  valley  in 
January,  1864,  that  he  had  escaped,  and  that 
noiv  there  was  no  2Drisoner  of  that  name  whose 
name  was  home  on  the  records  of  the  department. 

This  report  was  a  sore  disappointment  to  the 
wife,  but  it  was  not  unexpected  to  the  lieutenant, 
who  had  constantly  maintained  that  he  would 
only  be  found  after  a  long  and  weary  search. 
He  now  proceeded  to  collect  the  facts  concerning 
him,  and  these  facts  at  once  indicated  that  there 

233 


234  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

was  a  good  reason  for  Bedeirs  apprehension. 
Van  Metre  had  enhsted  in  the  regiment  of  cavalry 
raised  in  the  valley,  where  he  had  been  captured 
in  January,  1864.  On  their  way  to  Harper's 
Ferry  his  captors  had,  at  his  request,  stopped  at 
his  house,  permitted  him  to  have  an  interview 
with  his  wife  and  to  procure  a  change  of  clothing. 
He  might  easily  have  escaped  from  his  guards, 
but  would  not  because  he  had  given  them  his 
word  to  that  effect  if  they  would  permit  him  to 
call  at  his  home.  He  had  corresponded  with  his 
wife  until  the  following  May,  since  which  time 
she  had  not  heard  from  him.  His  last  letter  was 
from  Camp  Chase,  at  Columbus,  Ohio,  where  he 
was  taken  at  the  time  of  his  capture. 

There  was  another  rumor,  altogether  incon- 
sistent with  these  facts.  It  was  that  on  the 
11th  of  May  he  had  been  among  the  captured  at 
Spottsylvania  Court-House,  where,  at  the  place 
afterward  known  as  the  "Bloody  Angle,"  the 
Federal  column  swept  down  upon  the  division  of 
General  Edward  Johnson  and  captured  him  with 
twenty  pieces  of  artillery  and  twenty-eight  hun- 
dred men.  An  acquaintance  who  was  also  cap- 
tured and  who  afterward  escaped  reported  that 
Van  Metre  was  one  of  the  prisoners  and  that  he 
saw  him  when  he  was  marched  to  the  rear,  ap- 
parently unwounded.  From  this  time  his  wife 
had  heard  nothing  of  or  from  him. 

When  the  report  came  from  the  veteran  Gen- 


THE   FIRST   FAILURE   IN   THE   SEARCH.        235 

eral  Hitchcock,  commissary-general  of  prisoners, 
that  there  was  now  no  name  of  Van  Metre  upon 
the  roll  of  Confederate  prisoners,  a  very  dif- 
ferent effect  was  produced  upon  the  two  persons 
engaged  in  the  search.  The  poor  wife  again  felt 
the  waves  of  despair  overwhelming  her.  All  her 
apprehensions  returned,  stronger  than  before  she 
left  the  valley.  Her  husband  must  be  dead,  she 
thought ;  nothing  but  death  would  have  prevented 
him  from  sending  some  message  to  her.  There 
was  no  other  way  of  accounting  for  his  silence. 
She  imagined  many  evils.  He  was  bold,  some- 
times reckless.  Naturally  impatient  under  re- 
straint— weary  of  the  life  of  a  prisoner,  he  had 
attempted  to  escape  and  had  been  shot  down; 
or  having  made  his  escape  he  had  sickened  and 
died ;  or  he  had  lost  his  life  in  some  other  way. 
These  impressions,  from  which  her  mind  had  been 
relieved  by  its  diversion  to  her  care  for  Bedell, 
now  returned  with  increased  intensity.  When 
the  last  report  was  received  there  was  scarcely  a 
gleam  of  hope  in  the  dark  horizon  of  her  future. 
This  temporary  obstruction  instead  of  discour- 
aging Bedell  only  inspired  him  to  new  exertions. 
When  he  put  all  the  facts  together,  he  promptly 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  Van  Metre's  silence 
was  in  some  way,  he  could  not  conceive  how, 
connected  with  his  escape.  In  spite  of  himself 
his  mind  continually  recurred  to  his  dream.  He 
did  not  believe  in  dreams,  of  course.     A  man  who 


236  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

did  ought  not  to  be  suffered  to  go  at  large;  he 
should  be  restrained,  put  out  of  harm's  way  like 
other  lunatics.  And  yet  that  dream  was  curious 
and  fearfully  real.  Was  it  not  possible  that  hav- 
ing made  his  escape,  Van  Metre  had  determined 
to  re-enlist  in  the  Confederate  service?  Then  it 
might  have  occurred  to  him  that  an  escaped  pris- 
oner who  re-enlisted,  if  captured  again,  before 
he  was  exchanged  might  be  treated  as  a  deserter 
if  detected.  He  might  have  enlisted,  therefore, 
under  an  assumed  name  or  given  a  different 
name  when  he  was  again  captured.  There  were 
many  ways  of  accounting  for  the  fact  that  he 
was  still  a  prisoner,  still  living,  and  that  his  name 
did  not  appear  upon  the  roll  of  prisoners. 

Unable  to  work  out  a  satisfactory  conclusion 
in  his  own  mind,  he  wisely  decided  to  carry  his 
problem  to  the  Secretary  of  War.  Instead  of 
putting  it  aside,  Mr.  Stanton  at  once  proffered 
any  assistance  he  could  give.  "  It  has  frequently 
happened,"  he  said,  "that  captured  men  would 
not  give  their  true  names — the  records  of  the 
office  are  not  always  reliable.  It  is  by  no  means 
impossible  that  Van  Metre  is  yet  a  prisoner." 
His  advice  was  that  before  the  taper  of  hope 
should  be  wholly  extinguished  in  the  heart  of 
that  sorrowing  woman — before  the  search  should 
be  wholly  abandoned,  every  depot  of  Confederate 
prisoners  should  be  visited  and  every  prisoner 
be  examined.     He   would  facilitate  that  search 


THE   FIRST  FAILURE   IN  THE   SEARCH.        237 

in  every  possible  way.  He  would  give  Bedell 
and  Mrs.  Van  Metre  free  transportation,  permis- 
sion to  examine  every  prison,  and  an  order  on 
the  officer  in  command  to  deliver  to  her  any 
person  whom  she  should  claim  as  her  husband. 

And  so  it  happened  that  Bedell  went  from  the 
discouraged,  almost  heart-broken  woman,  with 
his  own  faith  somewhat  weakened,  to  the  War 
Office;  was  there  told  that  instead  of  giving  up 
the  search,  he  ought  to  regard  it  as  only  just  be- 
gun ;  that  in  continuing  it  he  was  to  have  not 
only  the  countenance,  but  the  actual  interest  of 
the  War  Office  and  its  efficient  head.  The  report 
of  his  consultation  confirmed  the  purpose  of  Mrs. 
Van  Metre  not  to  give  up  while  a  ray  of  hope 
remained,  and  it  was  finally  decided  to  prosecute 
the  inquiry  upon  the  new  lines  prescribed  by  the 
Secretary  of  War. 

I  suppose  there  will  be  readers  of  this  book 
who  will  charge  me  with  taking  an  unfair  ad- 
vantage if  I  here  inject  into  it  a  little  of  "what 
I  knew  about  Edwin  M.  Stanton."  I  am  not  in- 
different to  just  criticism,  but  I  shall  risk  even 
that  to  enable  me  to  do  an  act  of  justice  to  this 
misjudged,  misunderstood  man. 

I  am  perfectly  aware  that  it  was  the  prevail- 
ing opinion,  especially  among  those  who  are  wise 
to  do  evil  but  to  do  good  have  no  knowledge, 
that  Secretary  Stanton  was  a  cold,  heartless,  ob- 
stinate,  cruel  man,   who  delighted  in  inflicting 


238  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

pain  and  in  adding  insult  to  his  refusals  of  fa- 
vors which  another  would  have  granted.  I 
knew  the  man  better.  I  concede  his  brusque, 
sometimes  rough  manner.  I  neither  excuse  nor 
palliate  this  great  defect.  But  it  should  be  re- 
membered that  every  day  there  was  in  his  recep- 
tion-room a  large  and  varied  crowd,  many  of 
whom  were  thieves — human  vultures  who  would 
prey  upon  their  country.  These  he  detected  by 
intuition  and  crushed  by  a  sentence.  Others 
were  wives  in  search  of  their  husbands,  Rachels 
weeping  for  their  children,  all  seeking  passes 
through  our  lines  or  something  else  prohibited 
by  the  hard  necessities  of  war.  In  many  of  their 
bosoms  the  last  hope  would  be  extinguished  by 
his  negative.  He  usually  stood  beside  a  desk  or 
behind  a  railing  upon  which  his  arm  rested  with 
his  head  supported  by  his  hand.  No  one  who 
ever  witnessed  it  could  forget  that  sad  procession. 
He  disposed  of  the  petitioners  with  rapidity.  He 
heard  enough  of  each  to  know  that  something 
was  asked  that  could  not  be  granted,  when  his 
curt  refusal  fell  upon  the  hopes  of  the  petitioner 
like  the  axe  of  the  guillotine  upon  the  neck  of  its 
victim.  Very  pitiable  and  very  numerous  were 
these  scenes,  and  his  seemed  the  only  heart  un- 
moved. There  were  some  who  saw  him  a  few 
minutes  after  one  of  these  sad  receptions,  where, 
when  he  was  alone  or  only  a  friend  was  present, 
his  stoicism  gave  way  to  all  the  emotions  of  pity 


THE    FIRST   FAILURE   IN   THE   SEARCH.       239 

and  sympathy  which  filled  his  real,  genuine  heart. 
The  lieutenant  declared  that  his  interviews  with 
Mr.  Stanton  were  sometimes  closed  by  the  cordial 
grasp  of  a  hand  upon  which  often  a  warm  tear 
would  fall  after  coursing  along  his  thick,  dark 
beard,  even  as  the  precious  ointment  that  ran 
down  upon  the  beard  of  Aaron  went  down  to 
the  skirts  of  his  garments.  Therefore  it  is  that 
I  do  not  doubt  the  statement  that  as  often  as  the 
Secretary  saw  in  the  maimed  officer  the  proof  of 
what  this  Southern  woman  had  done  for  a  North- 
ern soldier  and  heard  the  touching  tale  repeated 
he  was  deeply  moved.  I  am  unwilling  to  lose 
the  opportunity,  and  sometimes  create  the  occa- 
sion, of  saying  that  I  do  personally  know  that  Mr. 
Stanton  was  a  kind,  sympathetic,  great-hearted 
American,  as  well  as  the  great  War  Secretary. 

With  full  authority  from  the  Secretary  to  in- 
spect all  records  and  to  prosecute  the  strictest 
search  through  every  depot  where  there  were 
any  Confederate  prisoners  and  an  order  to  deliver 
to  Mrs.  Van  Metre  any  person  whom  she  should 
claim  as  her  husband,  the  lieutenant  next  ap- 
plied for  assistance  and  advice  to  the  commissary- 
general  of  prisoners.  His  story  touched  the  gal- 
lant and  venerable  General  Hitchcock  as  it  had 
his  chief,  all  the  more  intensely  because  he  was 
himself  a  Vermonter,  a  descendant  of  Ethan 
Allen,  whose  name  he  bore.  He  was  of  the 
opinion  that  some  one  had  blundered,   and  the 

16 


340  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

available  force  of  his  office,  with  the  assistance  of 
Bedell,  set  about  the  work  of  ascertaining  when 
and  where  the  blunder  was  made,  and  of  prepar- 
ing a  list  of  the  depots  of  Confederate  prisoners 
and  the  places  where  these  prisoners  were  cap- 
tured. Mrs.  Van  Metre,  meanwhile,  passed  her 
time  in  assisting  inquiry  and  in  making  new 
friends. 


CHAPTEE   XXIII. 

THE   BLOODY   ANGLE — THE   PRISONER   AND   HIS 
BETRAYER. 

When  in  future  times  an  American  is  tempted 
to  tlie  performance  of  an  act  which  may  tend  to 
involve  his  country  in  civil  war,  may  his  good 
judgment  counsel  him  to  pause  while  he  reads 
and  reflects  upon  the  story  of  the  "  Bloody  Angle." 
Not  in  this  book !  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
shock  its  readers  with  a  history  which,  after 
thirty  years,  I  cannot  read  in  the  heat  of  a  sum- 
mer evening  without  a  convulsive  chill.  It  is 
with  considerable  hesitation  that  I  give  the  slight 
sketch  of  it  which  my  story  seems  to  require. 

The  place  which  gained  this  sanguinary  title 
was  an  angle  of  nearly  ninety  degrees  in  the  line 
of  the  Confederate  field  defences,  extending  north- 
ward from  Spottsylvania  Court -House  about 
one  and  one-half  miles  and  then  abruptly  turned 
westward.  On  the  11th  and  12th  days  of 
May,  186-4,  the  two  great  generals  of  their  time, 
each  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  array  of  veteran 
soldiers,  confronted  each  other  on  the  plains  of 
Virginia.     Accident    selected   the    field   for   the 

241 


242  AN  UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 

most  terrible  fighting  of  these  armies,  the  most 
deadly  combat  which  ever  took  place  upon  the 
western  continent.  It  was  just  within  and 
around  the  sharp  corner  in  these  Confederate 
works  which  projected  northward  and  toward 
the  Federal  advance.  Behind  this  angle  was  the 
division  of  Major-General  Edward  Johnson,  num- 
bering very  nearly  three  thousand  men  and 
comprising  twenty  pieces  of  artillery.  In  front 
of  it,  about  a  half-mile  away,  was  Hancock's 
command  of  the  Union  army,  which  comprised 
the  divisions  of  Barlow  and  Birney. 

I  am  perfectly  aware  that  in  the  days  when 
the  short-sword  of  the  Romans  conquered  the 
world,  warriors  necessarily  fought  to  their  death 
within  its  short  length  of  each  other ;  that  there 
must  have  been  very  brave  men  who  held  the 
pass  of  Thermopylae;  that  from  the  Assyrian 
invasion  to  the  "charge  of  the  light  brigade" 
there  have  been  hand-to-hand  conflicts  in  many 
of  the  great  battles  of  the  world.  But  if  on  the 
face  of  this  terrestrial  globe  there  is  any  spot 
which  has  been  the  theatre  of  such  a  fierce, 
blood}^  long-sustained,  continuous  contest  as  the 
Bloody  Angle,  I  do  not  know  where  it  is  to  be 
found  nor  in  what  volume  its  story  has  been  re- 
corded. Hand-to-hand  fighting,  not  by  scores  or 
by  companies,  but  by  thousands — not  by  men 
accidentally  thrown  together,  but  by  regiments 
and  brigades  deliberately  marching  to  the  shock ; 


THE   PRISONER  AND   HIS   BETRAYER.  243 

cannon,  their  muzzles  thrust  through  the  crev- 
ices in  the  breastworks  and  there  discharged, 
drawn  back,  reloaded,  thrust  forward,  and  fired 
over  and  over  again;  oaks  of  primeval  growth 
literally  gnawed  to  their  fall  by  minie-balls, 
and  in  their  fall  crushing  the  combatants  who 
were  slaying  each  other  beneath  their  shade; 
logs  of  breastworks  splintered  and  broomed  by 
swift  missiles  of  death;  dry  trenches  flowing 
with  human  blood;  batteries  of  artillery  with 
all  their  officers,  men,  and  horses  silent  in  death 
on  the  ground  around  the  exploded  caissons  and 
disabled  guns ;  the  ground  not  merely  covered, 
but  piled  four  deep  with  the  dead ;  the  lines  so 
close  together  that  as  the  men  fell  forward  the 
blue  and  the  gray  lay  side  by  side  or  were  piled 
in  alternate  layers;  men  dying  in  the,  act  of 
stanching  the  mortal  bayonet  wounds  only  a 
moment  before  inflicted  in  the  mad  rage  of  battle 
— such  were  some  of  the  sights  and  scenes  of  the 
Bloody  Angle.  Which  party  was  the  victor? 
Neither!  Such  men,  of  the  same  race,  blood,  and 
courage,  fight  and  die — they  may  be  crushed 
by  overweight  and  overpowered  by  numbers, 
but  they  cannot  be  conquered.  Such  scenes  may 
be  imagined,  but  they  cannot  be  painted  nor 
described. 

We  are  concerned  only  with  the  beginning  of 
this  conflict.  Just  as  the  dawn  was  struggling 
through  the  morning  mists,  Barlow  and  Birney, 


244  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

at  the  head  of  their  respective  divisions  of  Han- 
cock's right  wing  of  the  Union  army,  in  a  dense 
column  with  a  narrow  front,  rushed  to  the 
assault.  They  bounded  over  the  works,  and  be- 
fore the  Confederates  could  recover  from  the 
shock,  forced  them  back  from  their  defences, 
encircled  the  division  of  General  Edward  Johnson 
as  in  a  net  of  steel,  and  bore  them  to  the  number 
of  twenty-eight  hundred,  with  twenty  guns, 
swiftly  back  to  the  Union  rear.  They  were  thus 
carried  outside  the  storm  which  for  the  next 
twenty  hours  raged  back  and  forth,  like  a  hurri- 
cane in  the  waves  of  hell,  over  the  Bloody  Angle. 
During  those  hours  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy 
was  hanging  in  the  balance.  In  a  council  of  war 
the  previous  evening,  General  Grant  had  invited 
the  opinions  of  his  generals  on  the  question 
whether  the  works  could  be  carried  and  the  Con- 
federate line  be  broken  at  that  place.  A  majority 
of  the  generals  were  of  opinion  that  it  could  not. 
General  Upton  said :  "I  can  capture  the  position 
and  break  their  line.  Whether  the  position  can 
be  held  is  a  different  question,  which  must  depend 
upon  the  support  given  to  the  charging  column." 
He  led  the  charge  successfully.  But  while  charge 
after  charge  of  the  Confederates  was  defeated,  the 
Union  advance  was  checked  and  the  Confederate 
line  re-established  but  a  short  distance  in  the 
rear  of  the  first.  Then  one  body  of  trained  sol- 
diers was  hurled  against  another  with  such  force 


THE   PRISONER  AND   HIS  BETRAYER.  245 

that  both  went  down  over  and  over  again,  until 
one  of  the  commanders,  it  matters  little  which, 
weary  of  the  expenditure  of  one  of  his  own  veter- 
ans to  destroy  a  single  veteran  of  his  enemy, 
retired  and  left  to  the  other  the  empty  honor  of 
holding  the  field.  It  was  at  the  moment  of  one 
of  the  many  Confederate  charges  of  this  day  that 
General  Lee  rode  up,  clearly  intending  to  make 
the  charge  by  the  side  of  General  Gordon,  who 
was  to  lead  it.  Then  it  was  that  the  cry  was 
raised  by  countless  Confederate  voices,  "General 
Lee  to  the  rear!"  and  a  private  soldier  respect- 
fully but  firmly  took  the  bridle -bit  of  the  horse 
of  his  general  and  led  him  to  a  place  of  compara- 
tive safety. 

The  first  sensations  following  his  capture  of  a 
prisoner  of  war  are  seldom  agreeable.  Among 
the  twenty-eight  hundred  of  the  captured  was 
Van  Metre,  the  husband  of  the  woman  of  the 
valley.  Although  confident  in  his  own  mind  that 
he  had  committed  no  impropriety,  he  was  not 
certain  that  his  captors  would  take  so  lenient  a 
view  of  his  case.  He  had  placed  himself  under 
no  obUgation  to  the  authorities  at  Camp  Chase, 
it  being  his  purpose  to  be  left  free  to  escape  if  he 
could  by  any  means  elude  the  vigilance  of  his 
guards.  After  a  few  weeks'  experience  there,  he, 
in  company  with  three  others,  made  his  escape, 
and  after  much  suffering  and  danger  had  reached 
the  army  of  Virginia  only  a  few  days  before  his 


246  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

second  capture.  He  was  a  visitor  to  Johnson's 
division,  and  in  fact  on  his  way  to  his  own  regi- 
ment, which  he  supposed  was  in  the  vicinity  of 
Staunton.  He  was  therefore  not  a  combatant. 
But  he  feared  that  if  he  was  proved  to  have 
taken  service,  .without  being  exchanged,  in  any 
other  regiment  than  his  own,  he  might,  if  again 
captured,  be  treated  as  a  spy.  He  was  a  Con- 
federate in  every  fibre — an  intense  Virginian, 
true  to  his  flag.  As  no  information  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  assault  had  reached  the  pris- 
oners, he  with  others  supposed  that  they  had 
been  captured  in  a  disreputable  manner  by  a  sur- 
prise. Almost  without  reflection,  he  determined 
that  the  safest  course  for  him  would  be  to  sup- 
press his  name  and  regiment.  He  was,  under 
the  circumstances,  naturally  thoughtless  and 
irritable.  When  it  was  proposed  to  the  prisoners 
that  in  consideration  of  liberties  to  be  allowed 
them  they  should  promise,  for  the  time,  not  to 
attempt  to  escape,  he  peremptorily  refused  to 
give  any  pledge  and  declared  that  he  intended  to 
regain  his  liberty  at  the  first  opportunity.  When 
they  were  asked  to  give  their  names  and  regi- 
ments he  made  no  answer.  Another  prisoner 
who  claimed  to  know  him  invented  a  name  and 
a  regiment  for  him.  He  was  regarded  as  con- 
tumacious and,  with  a  few  others  equally  uncom- 
promising, was  separated  from  the  mass  of  the 
prisoners,  marched  by  the  shortest  route  to  the 


THE   PRISONER   AND   HIS   BETRAYER.  247 

Potomac,  ferried  across  to  Point  Lookout,  dropped 
into  the  multitude  of  thousands  of  Confederate 
prisoners  as  "John  Thompson,  First  Arkansas 
Cavah-y,"  and,  except  as  a  prisoner  who  had 
escaped  from  Camp  Chase,  his  true  name  no 
longer  appeared  upon  any  Federal  record  of  Con- 
federate prisoners. 

From  this  time  misfortunes  accumulated  upon 
the  head  of  the  unfortunate  prisoner  known  by 
the  name  of  John  Thompson.  He  was  naturally 
conscientious  and  would  have  recoiled  from  the 
thought  of  intentional  misrepresentation.  But 
now  he  was  brought  to  a  sense  of  his  true  situa- 
tion. In  a  moment  of  thoughtless  irritation  he 
had  forfeited  his  name  and  his  claim  to  the  rights 
of  a  prisoner  of  war.  He  condemned  his  own 
conduct  unsparingly,  began  to  look  upon  his  mis- 
fortunes as  no  more  than  he  deserved,  but  for  the 
time  could  discover  no  way  of  amending  his  situ- 
ation. 

From  its  commencement,  his  imprisonment 
at  Point  Lookout  was  more  intolerable  than 
his  previous  experience  at  Camp  Chase.  The 
location  of  the  camp  was  solitary  and  depressing, 
and  one  feature  of  it  was  especially  objectionable 
and  annoying.  The  large  number  of  prisoners 
were  guarded  exclusively  by  colored  regiments 
almost  wholly  made  up  of  emancipated  slaves, 
who  were  held  in  contempt,  as  inferiors,  by  the 
Confederates  but  recently  their  masters,  who  in 


248  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

turn  made  use  of  their  temporary  authority, 
too  often  in  the  most  offensive  manner.  The  men 
sent  with  Van  Metre  to  Point  Lookout  proved  to 
be  the  most  disreputable  creatures  in  the  service, 
with  whom  he  could  have  no  association.  His 
remorse  and  self-condemnation,  with  the  un- 
healthy condition  of  the  camp,  produced  a  condi- 
tion of  physical  weakness  which  increased  his 
irritability  and  made  him  peculiarly  susceptible 
to  annoyances  which  would  not  have  disturbed  a 
healthy  man. 

What  was  he  to  do?  He  now  appreciated  that 
he  ought  to  have  given  his  true  name  to  his  cap- 
tors and  to  have  announced  that  he  was  an 
escaped  prisoner,  on  his  way  to  join  his  own  regi- 
ment when  he  was  captured ;  that  he  was  tem- 
porarily with,  but  not  attached  to,  Johnson's 
command.  This  duty  he  had  neglected  at  the 
proper  time  when  it  should  have  been  done.  He 
could  discover  no  practicable  way  of  repairing  his 
error.  He  was  surrounded  by  ignorant  guards ; 
there  was  no  one  with  whom  he  could  consult; 
every  day's  delay  seemed  to  render  it  more 
and  more  difficult  for  him  to  restore  himself  to 
the  position  he  would  have  occupied  if  he  had  not 
suppressed  his  true  name.  He  deemed  it  haz- 
ardous to  attempt  to  communicate  with  his  wife 
or  with  any  one  else  under  his  assumed  name; 
to  do  so  under  his  true  name  would  involve  an 
explanation  with  consequences  which  he  feared 


THE   PRISONER  AND   HIS   BETRAYER.  249 

might  subject  him  to  trial  and  condemnation  by 
a  court-martial. 

In  this  condition  of  uncertainty  he  passed  sev- 
eral weeks.  The  number  of  prisoners  at  Point 
Lookout  increased  with  every  great  battle,  but 
none  came  from  the  valley — all  were  from  other 
sections  of  the  Confederacy  and  strangers  to  him. 
As  the  autumn  rains  came  on,  a  type  of  fever 
began  to  prevail  in  the  camp,  and  Van  Metre  was 
one  of  the  first  to  be  attacked.  He  fought 
against  it  as  long  and  as  well  as  he  could,  but 
toward  the  end  of  October  he  gave  up,  took  to 
his  bed,  and  in  a  few  days  was  ordered  to  be 
transferred  to  that  section  of  the  camp  which 
was  called  the  hospital. 

There  was  then  employed  as  a  nurse  in  the 
fever  ward  of  the  hospital  one  of  those  creatures 
generated  only  by  war  or  some  other  diseased 
condition  of  the  public  mind.  He  was  probably 
more  despicable  than  was  ever  covered  by  a  col- 
ored skin,  or  found  elsewhere  than  in  a  prison 
camp.  He  would  have  sold  himself  for  any  one, 
even  the  smallest,  of  the  thirty  pieces  paid  to 
Judas.  A  bounty-jumper  who  had  enlisted  and 
deserted  more  times  than  was  safe  at  the  North, 
he  had  then  enlisted  with  the  Confederates,  been 
captured,  and  was  now  seeking  to  ingratiate 
himself  with  the  officers  at  Point  Lookout  by 
playing  the  character  of  a  voluntary  pimp  and 
spy.     Taking  advantage  of  Van  Metre's  weak 


250  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

condition  and  his  strong  desire  for  the  counsel 
and  sympathy  of  a  man  of  his  own  color,  this 
wretch  had  adroitly  wormed  himself  into  his  con- 
fidence, ascertained  his  real  name  and  regiment, 
his  escape  from  Camp  Chase,  his  success  in 
reaching  the  army  of  Virginia  on  his  way  to  his 
own  regiment,  then  supposed  to  be  near  Staun- 
ton or  Harrisonburg.  He  had  volunteered,  for 
a  compensation,  to  mail  a  letter  which  Van  Metre 
was  extremely  desirous  of  sending  to  his  wife. 
Knowing  that,  unless  surreptitiously,  no  letter 
could  leave  the  camp  written  by  him  under  any 
other  name  than  that  of  Thompson,  he  had  paid 
the  fellow  his  last  coin  to  deposit  a  letter  to  his 
wife  in  his  own  name.  Such  a  letter  would  then 
have  reached  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  for  at  that  time 
Clarke  County,  where  she  resided,  was  within  the 
Union  lines.  The  wretch  pocketed  the  bribe, 
carried  the  letter  to  the  officer  in  command  of 
the  post,  and  informed  him  that  the  writer  was 
a  Confederate  spy  whose  name  was  Van  Metre. 
That  officer  having  ascertained  that  Van  Metre 
was  too  ill  at  that  time  to  do  any  harm  or  to 
attempt  to  escape,  contented  himself  with  in- 
creased watchfulness  over  him,  and  at  the  same 
time  extended  that  watchfulness  to  the  informer, 
whose  good  faith  was  soon  brought  under  vehe- 
ment suspicion. 

The  prisoner  very  soon  discovered  how  basely 
he  had  been  cheated  and  betrayed.     He  was  then 


THE   PRISONER   AND    HIS   BETRAYER.  251 

in  the  delirious  stage  of  the  fever,  and  but  for  a 
fortunate  accident  would  probably  never  have 
recovered  the  exercise  of  his  reason.  With  the 
singular  secretiveness  sometimes  exhibited  by  the 
insane,  he  concealed  his  suspicions,  suppressed 
his  resentment,  and  even  professed  to  bestow  upon 
the  creature  an  increased  measure  of  confidence 
and  friendship.  In  some  way  never  disclosed, 
and  which  the  officers  did  not  exhibit  a  very  irre- 
pressible desire  to  investigate,  he  possessed  him- 
self of  one  of  the  heavy  rawhides  wielded  by  the 
army  teamsters  in  the  process  of  disciplining  re- 
fractory mules.  For  many  days  he  kept  the 
weapon  concealed  in  his  cot  under  his  body.  The 
day  of  retribution  came,  when  Providence  deliv- 
ered the  scoundrel  into  the  hands  of  his  victim. 
There  was  no  one  to  molest  or  make  him  afraid. 
The  guards  outside,  ordinarily  quick  to  come  at 
any  unaccustomed  sound,  were  that  day  unac- 
countably deaf.  It  was  no  part  of  the  duty  of 
the  patients  in  the  ward  to  interfere.  Van  Metre 
rose  from  his  cot,  and  as  no  one  sought  to  prevent 
him,  so  long  as  his  strength  held  out  he  scored 
his  revenge  in  red,  swollen  ridges  and  bloody 
welts  upon  the  face,  neck,  chest,  and  shoulders 
of  his  betrayer.  Then  he  went  back  to  his  cot, 
with  his  strength  exhausted,  in  the  frenzy  of 
brain  fever,  and  for  many  days  was  mercifully 
unconscious  of  his  surroundings. 

Then  his  naturally  vigorous  constitution  was 


252  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

left  to  fight  the  battle  for  life  against  the  com- 
bined forces  of  disease,  imprisonment,  and  negli- 
gence without  outside  interference.  One  hour 
he  was  burning  with  fever,  the  next  his  lips  were 
blue  and  his  teeth  rattling  with  convulsive  chills. 
The  carelessness  of  human  life,  the  gross  negli- 
gence involved,  may  be  imperfectly  comprehended 
by  the  fact  that  when  the  stripes  of  his  castiga- 
tion  were  healed,  the  malicious  bounty-jumper 
and  detective  fraud  was  permitted  to  return  and 
have  charge  of  the  ward  in  which  Van  Metre 
suffered.  His  infamous  brain  conceived  the  pro- 
ject of  destroying  the  helpless  prisoner  by  neglect 
and  exposure.  Under  the  lying  pretext  that  he 
was  dangerous  in  his  madness,  iron  shackles  were 
locked  upon  his  wrists  and  ankles,  and  his  body 
became  the  feeding- ground  of  parasites  and  ver- 
min. His  accursed  ingenuity  in  devising  new 
methods  of  torture  would  have  done  credit  to  an 
Indian.  I  will  not  shock  the  nerves  of  the  reader 
by  any  further  account  of  his  devilish  devices. 
They  operated  slowly,  but  with  a  certainty  and 
a  keenness  of  suffering  that  would  have  shocked 
the  sensibilities  of  the  monster  who  made  Ander- 
sonville  celebrated  as  the  theatre  of  his  crimes 
and  the  scene  of  his  final  punishment. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  WHAT  I  DID   FOR  HIM  I  THOUGHT  SOME  NORTHERN 
WOMAN   MIGHT   DO   FOR   MY   HUSBAND." 

Those  who  were  accustomed  to  visit  the  hos- 
pitals during  the  battle  summer  of  1864,  among 
their  memories  of  pain,  suffering,  and  death  will 
recall  one  delightful  picture.  It  was  that  of 
woman,  with  the  crown  royal,  arrayed  like 
Vashti  the  queen  to  show  the  people  her  beauty. 
She  was  met  in  every  ward,  in  every  hospital,  in 
the  early  morning,  at  midday,  and  at  midnight. 
She  represented  every  station  in  life:  wealthy 
ladies  who  spent  all  their  time  and  more  than 
their  income  in  relieving  the  pain  and  torture  of 
the  sick  and  wounded ;  wives  of  mechanics  and 
laboring  men;  colored  women,  old  and  young, 
very  poor  in  this  world's  goods,  but  not  so  poor 
that  each  one  could  not  bring  a  basket  of  delica- 
cies to  distribute  to  the  patients ;  the  Sisters  of 
Charity,  those  efficient  Catholic  nurses  whose 
quiet  influence  pervaded  the  fever  wards  and 
controlled  the  delirium  of  the  fever-stricken — all 
these  and  others,  many  others,  were  found  con- 
stantly employed  in  some  work  of  charity,  some 
mission  of  relief  to  suffering  men. 

253 


254  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

There  were  a  few  of  these  ladies  whose  influ- 
ence was  exercised  over  a  broader  stage.  These 
went  from  camp  to  camp,  from  hospital  to  hos- 
pital, searching  out  and  correcting  frauds  and 
abuses.  These  last  were  the  special  favorites  of 
Secretary  Stanton  and  could  always  count  upon 
his  co-operation.  They  were  as  cordially  disliked 
by  unfaithful  managers  of  these  institutions, 
who  were  in  many  instances  brought  to  justice 
through  their  influence. 

There  was  a  veteran  general  whose  fighting 
days  were  ended  in  the  war  with  Mexico,  whose 
name  had  long  been  on  the  retired  list,  but  who 
still  retained  some  capacity  for  work,  which  he 
desired  to  employ  in  some  manner  in  the  service 
of  his  country.  He  had  offered  his  services  to 
Secretary  Stanton,  who,  with  that  excellent  judg- 
ment which  he  usually  showed  in  the  selection  of 
men  for  positions  of  difficulty,  promptly  accepted 
his  offer  and  requested  him  to  visit,  inspect,  and 
report  upon  the  camps  where  the  Confederate 
prisoners  of  war  were  confined.  The  general 
was  admirably  adapted  to  such  a  responsible 
duty,  which  required  good  judgment  and  a  sharp 
eye  not  to  be  deceived  by  preparations  in  antici- 
pation of  a  visit  of  inspection. 

This  officer  had  a  daughter  who  inherited  her 
father's  energy  and  many  other  of  his  excellent 
qualities.  Her  husband,  a  brave  general  of  divi- 
sion,  had  fallen  in  the  supreme  moment  of   a 


"what   I   DID   FOR   HIM,"    ETC.  255 

great  battle  in  1862.  Instead  of  yielding  to  so 
great  a  sorrow,  she  had  risen  above  it  and  deter- 
mined to  continue,  so  far  as  she  could,  that  service 
to  the  country  which  her  brave  husband  could  no 
longer  render.  She  had  become  her  father's  sec- 
retary, his  constant  attendant  on  his  tours  of  in- 
spection, and  had  become  very  efficient  in  the 
discharge  of  her  duties.  It  was  impossible  to 
conceal  from  the  sharp  eyes  of  this  father  and 
daughter  any  evidences  of  negligence  or  inatten- 
tion to  duty.  They  were  the  terror  of  unfaithful 
superintendents.  On  the  most  unexpected  occa- 
sions they  would  suddenly  make  their  appearance, 
to  the  great  profit  and  advantage  of  the  prisoners 
and  the  dismay  of  incompetent  officials. 

The  demonstration  of  General  Early  against 
the  city  of  Washington  and  its  narrow  escape 
from  capture  in  July,  1864:,  had  sharply  called 
public  attention  to  the  condition  of  the  prisoners' 
camp  at  Point  Lookout.  The  existence  of  this 
camp  had  not  been  regarded  as  important.  But 
when  General  Bradley  Johnson,  with  five  thou- 
sand cavalrymen,  was  detached  from  Early's  army 
on  the  Monocacy  and  sent  to  cut  the  railroads 
north  of  Baltimore,  and  was  rapidly  approaching 
a  camp  of  twenty  thousand  healthy  prisoners, 
guarded  only  by  two  colored  regiments  which 
had  never  been  in  battle,  the  North  was  suddenly 
aroused  to  the  magnitude  of  the  danger.  But 
for  the  arrival  of  two  divisions  of  the  Sixth  Corps 

17 


256  AN   UNKNOWN  HEROINE. 

at  Washington,  which  compelled  General  Early 
to  recall  General  Johnson  and  make  a  hasty  re- 
treat across  the  Potomac,  the  camp  at  Point 
Lookout  would  almost  certainly  have  been  cap- 
tured and  its  twenty  thousand  recruits  have  been 
furnished  to  the  army  of  General  Lee,  free  of 
the  cost  of  exchange. 

Soon  after  the  retreat  of  General  Early  many 
of  the  prisoners  at  Point  Lookout  were  sent  to 
other  camps.  The  active  movements  of  the  army 
before  Richmond,  followed  by  Sheridan's  cam- 
paign in  the  valley,  attracted  public  attention  to 
other  points,  and  Point  Lookout  came  to  be  re- 
garded as  of  no  special  importance.  It  thus 
became  one  of  the  places  where  the  experience  of 
the  veteran  inspector  had  shown  that  abuses 
would  rapidly  develop  which  would  require  his  at- 
tention. 

Toward  the  middle  of  November,  the  general 
and  his  daughter  made  their  unexpected  appear- 
ance in  the  camp  at  Point  Lookout.  They  swept 
through  all  its  departments  with  a  rapidity 
which  gave  the  officers  in  charge  no  time  to  get 
ready.  They  met  even  upon  their  cursory  in- 
spection with  a  succession  of  shocks  and  sur- 
prises. Since  the  distribution  of  the  prisoners  to 
other  camps  in  July,  this  depot  had  received  large 
additions  of  prisoners  from  the  field,  and  the 
number  was  now  too  large  for  the  force  of  at- 
tendants and  guards.     But  there  was  no  excuse 


"what   I   DID   FOR   HIM,"    ETC.  257 

for  the  existing  filth,  and  evidences  of  neglect  of 
duty  were  overwhelming.  The  guards  had  ap- 
parently used  reasonable  diligence  to  prevent  the 
escape  of  the  prisoners,  and  had  then  left  them 
to  take  care  of  themselves.  It  had  never  been 
the  policy  of  the  Government  to  neglect  its  pris- 
oners. Good  food  in  abundance,  clothing,  med- 
icines, and  medical  attendance  were  supposed  to 
be  everywhere  provided.  Eegulations  required 
that  every  part  of  the  camp  should  be  policed 
daily,  and  under  all  circumstances  all  the  condi- 
tions of  health  were  directed  to  be  observed  and 
secured.  The  lady  continued  her  investigations 
after  the  first  cursory  insjDection  was  completed. 
She  had  been  disgusted  by  that  inspection.  It 
was  evident  that  no  attention  had  been  given  to 
the  regulations  and  no  attempt  made  to  enforce 
them.  Her  dissatisfaction  rose  to  fever  heat 
when  she  entered  the  hospitals,  which  her  father 
had  not  yet  seen.  It  increased  as  she  passed  rap- 
idly through  the  wards.  She  had  not  reached 
the  last  one  when  she  decided  to  suspend  her  in- 
spection until  she  could  have  the  judgment  of 
her  father  and  his  friend  and  associate. 

For  the  veteran  general  had  a  friend  very 
much  after  his  own  heart  who  was  a  veteran 
surgeon.  He  stood  at  the  head  of  his  jDrofession 
when  he  retired  from  active  practice,  and  had 
been  pleased  to  accept  the  invitation  of  his  old 
military  friend  to  accompany  him  on  his  inspec- 
17 


358  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

tions  and  assist  him  in  relieving  the  suffering 
men  whom  the  chances  of  war  had  for  the  time 
being  made  our  prisoners. 

The  father  and  his  surgical  expert  were  pressed 
by  the  daughter  to  complete  their  inspection  of 
the  camp  and  the  hospitals  without  another 
hour's  delay.  They  complied,  first  insisting 
upon  the  attendance  of  the  surgeon  in  charge. 
He  came.  They  demanded  to  know  whether  the 
stench,  which  almost  overpowered  them  as  they 
entered  the  first  inclosure  where  prisoners  were 
confined,  was  an  indispensable  necessity.  The 
surgeon  in  charge  undertook  to  explain  it.  He 
said  it  was  due  to  the  laziness  of  the  prisoners, 
who  would  not  keep  their  quarters  in  a  cleanly 
condition.  The  prisoners  furiously  denied  this 
statement,  and  offered  to  clean  their  quarters 
at  once,  if  furnished  with  the  necessary  mate- 
rials and  permitted  to  procure  their  own  water, 
which  they  had  not  been  allowed  to  do.  The 
inspecting  party  went  through  the  camp,  and 
within  an  hour  almost  every  prisoner  was  en- 
gaged in  cleaning  his  person  or  his  quarters. 
This  reform,  so  easily  instituted,  was  made  perma- 
nent by  the  prompt  removal  of  the  surgeon,  and 
its  beneficial  effects  continued  until  peace  dis- 
pensed with  the  necessity  of  any  camp  for  pris- 
oners of  war. 

The  hour  was  so  late  that  it  was  deemed  nec- 
essary to  postpone  the  visit  to  the  fever  wards  un- 


"what   I  DID   FOR   HIM,"    ETC.  259 

til  the  following  day.  The  delay  was  vehemently 
objected  to  by  the  daughter,  on  the  ground  that 
it  would  cost  the  lives  of  some  of  the  patients  she 
had  already  seen.  Her  associates  did  not  believe 
that  there  was  any  foundation  for  her  fears :  they 
were  of  a  different  opinion  before  their  inspection 
was  completed. 

When  they  visited  the  hospitals  next  morning 
a  single  glance  showed  that  they  were  an  affront 
to  the  name.  They  were  extensive.  Disease 
had  been  prevalent;  it  had  been  spread  by 
neglect  and  the  patients  were  counted  by  hun- 
dreds. The  indignation  of  the  party  grew  hotter 
as  they  progressed,  for  each  ward  seemed  filthier 
than  the  last  they  had  passed  through.  They 
entered  what  were  called  the  fever  wards.  The 
fever  was  prevalent  and  almost  every  patient 
was  delirious.  The  fetid  atmosphere,  the  horri- 
ble expressions  of  insanity  made  the  place  resem- 
ble the  incurable  wards  of  a  mad-house.  It  was 
a  hard  trial  for  the  lady  to  endure ;  but  she  would 
not  retreat.  I  shall  spare  my  readers  the  horrors 
of  the  picture  which  met  their  astonished  eyes. 
She  finally  led  them  to  a  room  at  which  she  had 
taken  a  hasty  glance  the  night  before. 

It  was  crowded  with  cots,  in  every  one  of  which 
lay  a  fever -stricken  man.  In  one  of  them,  upon 
a  bed  of  straw,  reeking  with  filth,  in  undercloth- 
ing which  had  not  been  changed  for  months, 
were  the  almost  fleshless  remains  of  what  had 


260  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

once  been  a  healthy  man.  His  hollow,  sunken 
eyes  were  wild  with  the  insane  fire  of  fever, 
which  was  burning  up  the  strength  and  consum- 
ing the  juices  of  his  body.  The  grime  of  his 
face  could  not  conceal  its  ashen  pallor ;  his  beard, 
the  growth  of  months,  and  his  matted  hair  were 
alive  with  unmentionable  vermin.  His  parched 
lips,  seamed  with  bloody  cracks,  opened  with  diffi- 
culty, and  as  he  saw  them  looking  at  the  name 
over  his  head,  his  weak  voice  struggled  to  say: 
"No!  no!  Not  Thompson!  My  name  is  Van 
Metre!" 

The  general  had  to  put  forth  all  his  energy  to 
maintain  his  self-control.  Turning  to  the  sur- 
geon of  the  camp,  he  demanded  in  a  voice  which 
was  piercing  in  its  intensity :  "  Where  is  the  man 
who  is  responsible  for  the  care  of  this  prisoner?" 

A  wretch  with  the  mouth  of  a  rat  and  the 
general  expression  of  a  h}'ena,  every  feature  of 
whose  face  was  vile,  had  been  chattering  in  the 
rear  of  the  party  that  the  man  was  insane ;  that 
he  had  tried  to  kill  his  attendants ;  that  he  would 
not  obey  their  directions ;  that  it  had  been  neces- 
sary to  restrain  him,  etc.  He  was  pointed  out 
to  the  visitors  as  the  nurse. 

The  general  called  for  a  sergeant  and  a  file  of 
men.  As  soon  as  they  came  he  said  :  "Put  that 
man  under  guard  in  a  safe  place.  If  necessary 
put  him  in  irons.  Let  him  escape  at  your  peril ! 
There — take  him  away !" 


"what   I   DID    FOR   HIM,"   ETC.  261 

He  was  obeyed.  By  the  suggestion  of  his  con- 
sulting surgeon  he  ordered  a  tent  to  be  prepared 
in  the  only  shaded  place  in  the  vicinity.  Very 
tenderly  was  poor  Van  Metre  placed  upon  a 
stretcher  and  carried  to  a  bath-room,  where  by 
the  administration  of  stimulants,  with  great 
care  the  grime  and  filth  were  removed  from  his 
body,  his  head  and  face  were  shaved  and  their 
living  tenants  were  extirpated.  Then  he  was 
carried  to  the  tent,  provided  with  underclothing, 
and  placed  between  clean  sheets  on  a  soft  mat- 
tress. Strengthening  restoratives  were  adminis- 
tered and  a  regimen  prescribed  which  secured 
him  a  repose  of  several  hours. 

Notwithstanding  his  fortunate  discovery  by  the 
efficient  relief  party,  the  condition  of  Van  Metre 
continued  to  be  very  precarious.  The  exertion 
of  his  necessary  ablution  and  of  cleansing  him 
from  the  grime  which  coated  his  person,  followed 
by  the  exhaustion  of  a  long  and  profound  sleep, 
produced  a  succession  of  fainting  fits  which  could 
only  be  arrested  by  powerful  stimulants.  The 
veteran  surgeon  advised  the  employment  of  an 
experienced  nurse  who  would  not  relax  his  vigi- 
lance for  a  moment,  for  the  neglect  of  that  mo- 
ment might  prove  fatal.  Such  a  nurse  was 
found  with  less  difficulty  than  the  surgeon  antic- 
ipated. The  sympathies  of  the  general's  daugh- 
ter had  been  powerfully  excited  by  the  sufferings 
of  the  prisoner  and  the  brutality  of  his  attend- 


2G3  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

ant.  With  a  firmness  not  unlike  that  shown  by 
Mrs.  Van  Metre  on  her  first  visit  to  the  room  of 
the  wounded  and  deserted  officer,  and  it  may  have 
been  for  a  like  cause,  she  announced  her  purpose 
to  become  the  nurse  of  the  maltreated  prisoner 
and  the  guide  of  his  trembling  steps  on  the  road 
to  convalescence.  Neither  the  surgeon  nor  her 
father  remonstrated,  for  a  human  life  was  in- 
volved. The  former  prepared  the  remedies  which 
were  to  be  administered  whenever  the  patient 
awoke  to  consciousness.  She  took  her  seat  by 
his  bedside  and  commenced  a  vigil  of  watchful- 
ness which  was  not  relaxed  until  the  patient  was 
declared  free  from  immediate  danger. 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

AND  THE  RECOMPENSE  OF  A  MAN'S  HANDS  SHALL 
BE  RENDERED  UNTO  HIM. 

In  the  last  year  of  the  war  there  were  deaths 
from  wounds  so  slight  that  they  scarcely  attracted 
attention  until  their  fatal  character  was  estab- 
lished. There  were  other  cases  of  recovery  from 
wounds  so  severe  that  they  went  far  toward  es- 
tablishing the  claims  of  those  who  believed  in 
faith  cures  and  miraculous  interpositions.  In  the 
cases  first  named,  the  patient  was  depressed, 
hopeless,  indifferent  whether  he  lived  or  died; 
in  the  second,  he  was  either  cheered  by  hope  or 
encouraged  by  duty.  A  wounded  soldier  among 
strangers,  suffering  an  agony  of  pain,  treated  as 
if  he  were  an  animal  or  a  machine,  with  no  one 
to  care  for  or  sympathize  with  him,  would  often 
welcome  death  as  a  deliverer  and  a  friend,  when 
the  same  man  upon  the  appearance  in  the  hos- 
pital of  a  wife,  a  sister,  or  even  of  a  stranger  who 
sympathized  with  him  or  took  some  interest  in 
his  recovery,  at  once  lifted  him  out  of  his  de- 
spondency aiid  placed  him  in  the  way  to  health 
and  convalescence. 

The  influence  upon  Van  Metre  of  the  unremit- 

263 


264  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

ting  care  of  his  volunteer  nurse,  and  especially 
her  avowed  purpose  to  watch  him  closely,  to 
secure  for  him  every  advantage,  and  see  that  he 
lost  no  opportunity  of  improvement,  was  most 
favorable.  And  there  was  another  occurrence 
about  the  same  time  which  multiplied  his  favor- 
able chances.  His  betrayer  was  brought  into  his 
presence,  and  there  occurred  a  scene  which  very 
closely  resembled  the  one  witnessed  by  Bedell  in 
his  dream,  which  it  will  be  remembered  was  by 
him  related  to  Mrs.  Van  Metre  when  he  was  first 
taken  to  her  home.  The  fact  that  the  knavery 
of  his  betrayer  had  been  detected  by  strangers 
without  his  intervention,  and  the  prospect  that 
the  criminal  would  be  brought  to  justice  and 
punished,  planted  a  new  hope  in  his  mind  that  he 
might  live  and  witness  the  infliction  of  that  pun- 
ishment. But  there  could  have  been  no  substi- 
tute for  the  untiring  industry  of  the  general's 
daughter.  The  veteran  surgeon  had  prepared 
the  stimulating  remedies  he  prescribed  with  his 
own  hands.  They  were  to  be  administered  as 
often  as  the  patient  showed  any  signs  of  waking. 
The  general's  daughter  then  seated  herself  by 
the  bedside  of  the  patient;  the  remedies  were 
within  reach  of  her  hand,  A  trained  nurse  was 
in  the  adjoining  room  within  her  call.  There 
she  kept  her  faithful  watch,  administering  as 
often  as  every  hour  some  refreshing  or  stimulat- 
ing  remedy,  until   by  the  second   morning   the 


THE   RECOMPENSE   OF   A   MAN'S   HANDS.         265 

strength  of  the  patient  was  unexpectedly  in- 
creased, his  condition  was  more  promising  than 
the  surgeon  had  anticipated,  and  he  was  declared 
to  be  on  the  high-road  to  recovery. 

The  experience  of  Van  Metre  bore  a  close  re- 
semblance to  that  of  Bedell  in  another  respect. 
Bedell  was  no  more  confident  that  he  was  pre- 
served from  death  by  the  ministrations  of  Mrs. 
Van  Metre  during  the  first  night  after  his  discov- 
ery by  her,  than  Van  Metre  was  that  he  owed  his 
life  to  the  watchful  nursing  of  the  general's 
daughter  during  the  night  following  his  removal 
from  the  hospital  ward  to  the  tent  at  Point 
Lookout.  He  was  in  truth  reduced  to  the  last 
degree  of  weakness.  A  few  hours  more  of  that 
murderous,  intentional  negligence,  and  nothing 
short  of  a  miracle  could  have  saved  him.  The 
flame  of  his  life  was  flickering  so  feebly  that  a 
breath  would  have  extinguished  it.  The  ex- 
haustion of  his  flrst  sleep  would  have  been  fatal 
but  for  the  judgment  and  watchful  care  of  his 
nurse  and  her  strict  observance  of  the  directions 
of  the  veteran  surgeon. 

He  was  now  moderately  certain  of  recovery  if 
the  danger  of  a  relapse  could  be  avoided.  Noth- 
ing but  incessant  care  could  prevent  such  a  mis- 
fortune, but  of  that  care  he  was  now  assured. 
Although  he  was  no  longer  tortured  by  the  wild 
images  of  delirium,  reason  did  not  immediately 
resume  her  full  empire  over  his  mind.     His  mem- 


266  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

ory  was  more  impaired  than  his  other  mental 
powers;  sometimes  it  seemed  wholly  lost,  and 
then  his  efforts  to  recall  past  events  were  painful 
to  witness.  He  seemed  to  be  aware  that  he  had 
done  some  wrong — something  for  which  he  was 
liable  to  punishment,  but  what  it  was  he  could 
not  recall.  He  made  desperate  efforts  to  remem- 
ber it,  and  failing  believed  he  had  become  idiotic. 
These  efforts  were  a  heavy  tax  upon  his  vitality, 
and  his  nurse  labored  diligently  to  prevent  their 
recurrence. 

At  length  a  morning  came  when  he  was  able 
to  remember  the  past  and  to  comprehend  his 
present.  His  nurse,  relieved  from  the  necessity 
of  continuous  attendance,  was  paying  him  a  visit. 
Her  interest  in  his  recovery  was  unabated  and  her 
visits  sufficiently  frequent  to  secure  him  against 
farther  inattention. 

"I  have  a  confession  to  make  to  you,"  he  said 
to  her.  "  I  fear  you  will  have  no  faith  in  me  after 
you  have  heard  it.  But  I  have  suffered  enough 
by  deception.  Now  I  wish  to  have  every  one  know 
the  truth." 

"There  is  an  old  saying  that  confession  is  good 
for  the  soul,"  she  replied.  "However,  I  do  not 
see  how  you,  a  prisoner,  could  have  committed 
any  offence  while  you  have  been  sick  and  in 
prison.     Of  what  do  you  accuse  yourself?" 

"Of  permitting  others  to  misrepresent  me  and 
not  correcting  them,"  he  said.     "  My  name  is  not 


THE  RECOMPENSE   OF   A   MAN'S   HANDS.         267 

Thompson.  It  is  Van  Metre,  and  I  am  an  es- 
caped prisoner.  But  I  am  not  a  spy,  as  that  vil- 
lain who  had  control  of  me  falsely  stated." 

"What  of  all  that?  To  pass  by  a  false  name 
may  be  decef)tion,  but  it  is  no  crime.  What  gave 
you  such  an  idea?" 

"  I  was  a  prisoner,  confined  at  Camp  Chase  in 
Columbus,  Ohio.  With  a  number  of  other  prison- 
ers I  escaped,  as  I  suppose  I  had  the  right  to  do. 
Those  who  got  away  from  the  prison  separated. 
After  many  hardships,  almost  naked  and  starved, 
I  reached  the  army  of  General  Lee  before  Eich- 
mond,  on  my  way  to  my  own  regiment,  which  I 
supposed  was  somewhere  in  the  upper  portion  of 
the  valley.  I  had  not  joined  any  regiment  since 
my  escape.  If  I  had  done  so  without  being  ex- 
changed I  suppose  I  should  have  been  subject  to 
punishment.  I  permitted  another  prisoner  to 
give  a  false  name  for  mine  because  I  feared  that, 
finding  me  with  Johnson's  division,  I  should  be 
treated  and  punished  as  having  joined  it.  Since 
my  confinement  here  I  have  written  a  letter  in 
my  true  name  to  my  wife,  which  the  villain  who 
had  charge  of  me  was  hired  to  mail.  Instead  of 
mailing,  he  delivered  it  to  the  officer  in  command 
of  this  post,  and  told  him  a  lot  of  lies  about  my 
being  a  Confederate  spy.  I  assure  you  that  I  have 
done  no  other  wrong." 

"  I  do  not  believe  you  are  guilty  of  any  offence 
whatever,"  said  the  spirited  woman.     "If   you 


268  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

are,  it  cannot  be  one  of  much  account.  You 
have  done  right  in  disclosing  it  to  me.  I  will 
consult  my  father,  who  will  advise  you  wisely  and 
I  am  certain  v/ill  stand  your  friend.  In  the 
mean  time  is  there  anything  farther  that  I  can  do 
for  you?" 

"  Yes.  There  is  one  very  great  favor  which  I 
fear  will  not  be  granted  until  my  miserable  de- 
ception is  cleared  up.  In  all  these  five  months 
my  poor  wife  near  Berry ville  has  not  heard  from 
me,  nor  have  I  had  any  message  from  her.  She 
must  think  that  I  am  dead  or,  what  is  worse,  that 
I  have  forgotten  or  abandoned  her.  If  the  officer 
in  command  of  this  station  would  permit  me  to 
write  her  a  brief  letter,  telling  her  that  I  am  liv- 
ing and  explaining  why  she  has  not  heard  from 
me  during  this  long  and  weary  time,  I  would  ask 
no  other  favor.  Poor  woman !  she  is  in  my  mind 
every  hour  and  every  moment  when  I  am  in  con- 
trol of  my  senses." 

"There  is  no  reason  of  which  I  can  conceive 
why  you  should  not  have  such  a  letter  written 
and  forwarded  to-day,"  she  said.  The  assurance 
relieved  his  fears  and  produced  upon  his  despond- 
ent mental  condition  a  better  effect  than  medi- 
cine. As  soon  as  the  facts  were  communicated 
to  him,  the  officer  in  command  of  the  camp 
promptly  consented  that  the  fact  of  the  prisoner's 
existence,  condition,  and  place  of  confinement 
should  be  made  known  to  his  wife  by  letter  ad- 


THE   RECOMPENSE   OF  A   MAN'S   HANDS.         269 

dressed  to  her  via  Harper's  Ferry.  The  letter 
was  written  and  mailed.  It  reached  Harj^er's 
Ferry  without  any  delay,  but  the  Union  army 
had  been  withdrawn  and  the  region  around  Berry- 
ville  was  again  under  Confederate  control.  The 
letter  accordingly  remained  in  the  post-office  at 
Harper's  Ferry,  undelivered.  At  the  time  Mrs. 
Van  Metre  and  Bedell  were  arranging  to  begin 
their  search,  this  letter,  which  would  have  relieved 
their  anxieties  and  informed  them  where  Van 
Metre  was,  lay  in  the  post-office  at  Harper's  Ferry, 
where  they  then  were.  They  had  no  knowledge 
of  it,  and  so  far  as  they  were  concerned  it  might 
just  as  well  have  been  at  the  north  pole. 

The  small  but  efficient  party  of  inspection,  which 
might  well  have  been  called  a  relief  party,  knew 
that  in  such  a  camp  the  fatality  was  largely  due 
to  mental  causes,  and  they  devoted  themselves  to 
schemes  and  plans  for  the  occupation  of  the  minds 
of  the  prisoners.  Van  Metre  had  his  full  share  of 
their  attention.  They  encouraged  him  with  the 
hope  of  his  own  recovery,  of  again  seeing  his 
home  and  his  wife,  who  would  have  her  solicitude 
relieved  by  his  letter,  and  would  probably  within 
a  few  days  transmit  her  reply.  The  general  far- 
ther increased  his  chances  of  recovery  by  pointing 
out  to  him  that  his  evidence  would  be  necessary  to 
convict  his  villanous  guard,  whom  he  proposed  to 
bring  to  trial  before  a  court-martial.  His  duty  to 
bring  that  wretch  to  justice,  and  the  hope  which 


270  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

these  encouragements  brought  to  a  heart  from 
which  it  had  long  been  absent,  gave  the  mind  of 
the  patient  constant  and  healthful  occupation, 
until  other  duties  called  the  general  and  his  skil- 
ful associates  to  other  fields  of  usefulness. 

They  left  the  camp  before  their  patient  had 
gained  such  a  measure  of  physical  strength  that 
unassisted  nature  could  accomplish  his  cure.  The 
surroundings  of  the  place  became  more  depressing 
with  the  approach  of  winter.  The  camp  was  on 
a  low  and  narrow  peninsula,  with  a  broad  marsh 
on  one  side  and  the  river  on  the  other.  There 
was  not  a  hill,  there  was  scarcely  a  human  dwell- 
ing near  it.  There  were  a  few  trees  on  the  slight 
elevation  where  his  tent  was  pitched,  but  no  other 
vegetation  except  that  of  the  marshes  in  view. 
His  removal  to  the  tent,  of  which  he  was  the  only 
occujDant,  from  the  close  and  crowded  wards  of 
the  shed  dignified  with  the  name  of  the  hospital, 
and  the  excellent  care  which  he  continued  to  re- 
ceive, would  have  protected  him  against  a  relapse 
if  he  had  not  been  previously  reduced  to  a  degree 
of  weakness  which  was  very  near  to  death.  The 
general's  daughter  exercised  a  powerful  influence 
over  him.  For  some  days  after  her  dej)arture  he 
lived  upon  her  memory  and  managed  to  bear 
himself  fairly  well.  But  as  day  followed  day 
and  one  long  night  followed  another,  and  no  re- 
ply came  to  his  letter,  no  news  from  his  home,  no 
message  from  his  wife,  having  no  one  to  lean 
upon  and  left  wholly  to  his  own  resources,  he  be- 


THE  RECOMPENSE   OF    A   MAN'S   HANDS.         271 

gan  to  lose  the  strength  he  had  gained.  There 
is  no  depression  to  which  man  can  be  subjected 
so  disheartening  as  that  which  accompanies  the 
weakness  of  fever.  The  dark  cloud  which  ob- 
scures the  vision  shuts  out  all  hope,  all  light. 
It  is  then  that  the  patient  needs  all  his  conscience, 
all  his  moral  principle,  for  the  devil  never  leaves 
him — never  ceases  to  whisper  in  his  ear:  "Why- 
do  you  continue  to  suffer?  You  have  become 
worthless — good  for  nothing  for  yourself  or 
others !  Why  not  avail  yourself  of  suicide,  your 
best,  your  only  friend?" 

It  was  a  time  of  great  mortality  in  that  crowded 
camp.  The  dense  fogs  which  every  morning  as- 
cended from  the  broad  marsh  were  laden  with 
malaria.  An  active  fever  became  prevalent  which 
struck  down  its  victims  within  two  or  three  days 
from  the  first  attack.  From  his  cot  through  the 
door  of  his  tent,  every  morning  Van  Metre  wit- 
nessed the  long  procession  moving  from  the  hos- 
pital toward  the  piece  of  flat  marsh  which  had 
been  inclosed  by  a  rude  fence  and  called  the  cem- 
etery, where  men  were  laid  in  ditches  without 
prayer  or  other  ceremony.  Finally  he  gave  up 
all  hope  of  recovery  and  looked  forward  to  the 
day,  which  could  not  be  far  distant,  when  he  him- 
self would  be  one  of  those  borne  in  that  long  and 
dreary  procession.  Leaving  him  in  this  despond- 
ing condition,  our  history  returns  to  those  who 
were  now  to  test  the  verity  of  the  promise,  "  Seek 
and  ye  shall  find!" 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

"l  HAVE  NOT  FOUND  SO  GREAT  FAITH;  NO,  NOT 
IN  ISRAEL." 

The  fact  that  according  to  the  records  "Van 
Metre  was  no  longer  a  prisoner  nor  under  the  con- 
trol of  the  Federal  authorities  might  have  dis- 
couraged a  less  determined  man,  but  it  served  to 
inspire  Bedell  with  a  fiercer  resolution.  He  re- 
r>3ated  to  himself  over  and  over  again  that  only 
fools  and  old  women  believed  in  dreams.  Yet 
that  dream  of  his  implied  that  Van  Metre  was 
still  a  prisoner — that  he  had  been  very  ill — that 
he  was  then  in  good  hands  and  recovering.  He 
counted  the  dream  as  worthless  rubbish,  but  at 
the  same  time  it  led  him  to  adhere  to  his  deter- 
mination formed  upon  all  the  facts  and  circum- 
stances, as  soon  as  he  learned  that  his  name  was 
not  on  the  list  of  prisoners,  that  he  would  not 
abandon  the  search  until  he  had  found  Van  Metre 
or  inspected  every  prisoner  of  war  who  then  re- 
mained under  Federal  control. 

The  officers  in  charge  of  the  Bureau  of  Prison- 
ers at  Washington  entered  upon  the  subject  of 
the  search  with  great  interest.     In  fact  their  zeal, 

272 


"l   HAVE   NOT   FOUND   SO   GREAT   FAITH."      273 

excited  by  the  pathetic  face  and  gentle  dignity  of 
the  wife,  led  them  astray  and  protracted  the 
search.  Had  they  directed  Bedell  in  the  first  in- 
stance to  the  camp  where  the  largest  number  of 
prisoners  captured  by  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
in  the  campaign  of  lS6-i  had  been  sent,  and  where 
presumptively  the  chances  of  finding  his  man 
would  have  been  best,  they  would  have  found 
him  in  the  first  camp  examined,  in  the  tent  at 
Point  Lookout. 

He  had  been  sent,  as  the  records  showed,  to 
Camp  Chase  at  the  time  of  his  original  capture. 
Although  his  escape  from  that  camp  was  reported, 
he  might  have  been  recaptured  or  his  pursuers 
might  have  got  some  trace  of  him  which  would 
indicate  where  he  was  or  otherwise  assist  in  the 
search.  They  did  not  altogether  discredit  the 
indefinite  rumor  that  he  had  been  seen  among  the 
captured  of  General  Johnson's  division  near  SiDott- 
sylvania.  Those  prisoners  had  been  distributed 
to  different  camps;  some  of  them  to  Camp  Chase. 
On  the  whole,  it  was  decided  that  Camp  Chase 
was  the  best  point  for  commencing  the  search. 

Provided  with  transportation  and  armed  with 
all  the  authority  and  facilities  which  the  War  De- 
partment could  furnish,  Mrs.  Van  Metre  and  her 
escort  set  out  upon  their  search.  There  were 
several  camps  to  be  examined,  some  of  them 
containing  as  many  as  twenty  thousand  captives, 
for  up  to  that  time  no  general  exchange  of  pris- 
18 


274  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

oners  had  been  arranged,  and  some  one  was  mor- 
ally responsible  for  thousands  of  lives  lost  by  the 
delay.  It  was  no  child's  play  to  examine  the  face 
of  every  individual  in  one  of  these  multitudes. 
For  the  plan  upon  which  Bedell  insisted  involved 
also  the  inspection  of  every  cot  in  the  hospitals 
and  of  every  name  in  the  records  of  the  dead. 
Every  facility  and  assistance  was  rendered  by  the 
authorities  at  most  of  the  camps.  Commencing 
at  Camp  Chase,  a  station  was  provided,  the  men 
were  turned  out  in  detachments  and  in  single  file 
slowly  marched  past  the  searchers,  who  were  thus 
able  to  scrutinize  every  face.  This  done,  they 
went  through  every  ward  and  examined  every 
patient  in  the  hospital,  completing  their  work  by 
a  close  inspection  of  the  records  of  the  dead.  This 
work  occupied  several  days  in  each  camj),  and  it 
was  thoroughly  done. 

And  so  they  went  from  camp  to  camp  perform- 
ing their  sad,  monotonous  duty.  They  had  per- 
formed it  in  most  of  them;  only  two  or  three 
remained  to  be  examined.  By  the  persistent  en- 
couragement of  Bedell,  the  hope  and  courage  of 
the  patient  wife  had  been  fairly  well  maintained. 
But  now  her  strength  was  yielding,  and  as  these 
many  days  of  patient  search  produced  nothing,  her 
hope  and  courage  were  failing  with  her  strength. 
They  were  just  completing  a  tour  in  a  hospital, 
the  last  thing  to  be  done  in  one  of  the  large  camps, 
when  she   began  to  hang  with  her  full  weight 


"l  HAVE  NOT  FOUND  SO  GREAT  FAITH."   275 

upon  the  arm  of  her  escort,  and  then  she  sank 
wearied  and  fainting  to  the  floor. 

They  laid  her  upon  an  unoccupied  cot;  the 
attendants  gathered  about  her  and  endeavored 
to  restore  her  by  the  use  of  the  common  remedies 
in  such  cases.  All  were  attracted  by  the  refined 
expression  of  her  face,  and  in  answer  to  an  in- 
quiry Lieutenant  Bedell  mentioned  her  name. 
It  reached  the  ear  of  a  sick  man  in  an  adjacent 
cot. 

"Who  is  that  lady?"  he  abruptly  asked  of  his 
attendant. 

"She  is  a  lady  from  the  valley  of  Virginia," 
replied  the  attendant.  "  Her  husband  was  a  soldier 
in  the  Confederate  army  who  has  been  captured 
and  if  living  is  now  a  prisoner.  She  has  not 
heard  from  him  in  many  months.  On  account 
of  some  kindness  she  has  shown  to  a  Union  officer, 
the  Secretary  of  War  has  given  her  an  order  for 
the  discharge  of  her  husband  and  authorized  her 
to  search  for  him  through  all  the  camps.  She 
expected  to  find  him  here.  She  has  not  found 
him  and  now  it  is  almost  certain  that  he  is  dead. 
We  all  feel  very  sorry  for  her,  for  she  is  a  very 
sweet  woman  and  must  be  dreadfully  disap- 
pointed. They  say  that  she  saved  the  life  of  the 
Union  officer  who  is  with  her." 

"Did  I  not  hear  some  one  call  her  Mrs.  Van 
Metre?"  asked  the  sick  man. 

"Yes.     Her   name   is   Van   Metre,"   said   the 


276  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

nurse.  "There  is  some  doubt  about  the  place 
where  her  husband  was  captured.  He  was  first 
captured  near  Front  Royal,  in  the  valley :  there 
is  also  a  rumor  that  he  was  taken  with  Johnson's 
division  in  the  great  battle  near  Spottsylvania 
Court -House." 

"Van  Metre?  Van  Metre?"  exclaimed  the  sick 
man.  "  If  I  were  not  so  weak  and  forgetful  I  am 
almost  certain  that  I  could  tell  that  lady  some- 
thing about  her  husband.  Let  me  think!"  he 
continued.  "Yes!  it  was  after  we  were  taken 
at  Spottsylvania ;  and  there  was  some  trouble. 
If  the  lady  remains  here  over  night  I  will  try  and 
think  how  it  was." 

To  fly  to  the  sorrowing  wife  and  relight  the 
dying  taper  of  hope  in  her  heart  by  telling  her  that 
here  was  one  who  possibly  knew  something  about 
her  husband,  was  the  loving  mission  of  the  nurse. 
For  everywhere  the  gentle  woman  and  her  noble 
though  crippled  escort  went,  they  made  friends 
who  wished  to  enlist  in  their  service.  Bedell  im- 
mediately consulted  with  the  surgeon,  who  di- 
rected them  to  be  very  cautious  with  the  sick 
man.  He  had  been  delirious,  was  still  very  weak, 
and  excitement  might  cause  a  return  of  his  fever 
with  all  its  dangerous  symptoms.  The  surgeon 
took  a  deep  interest  in  the  matter,  and  offered  him- 
self not  only  to  get  the  man  into  a  condition  for  the 
exercise  of  his  memory,  but  to  draw  the  story 
from  him  in  its  most  authentic  form. 


"l  HAVE  NOT  FOUND  SO  GREAT  FAITH."   277 

Bedell  and  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  while  burning  with 
impatience  to  hear  the  sick  man's  story,  recog- 
nized the  wisdom  of  the  doctor's  advice.  Their 
solicitude  was  so  great  that  neither  of  them  slept 
during  the  night,  whicli  seemed  to  both  one  of 
the  longest  they  had  ever  passed. 

In  the  morning  the  patient  was  reported  to  be 
in  his  right  mind.  He  insisted  upon  the  presence 
of  Mrs.  Van  Metre  with  the  surgeon,  and  in  a 
very  weak  voice  but  with  a  memory  apparently 
very  clear  he  made  the  following  communication : 

He  belonged,  he  said,  to  Johnson's  division. 
He  distinctly  remembered  a  man  who  strongly 
resisted  capture  on  the  ground  that  he  did  not 
belong  to  the  division  and  was  a  non-combatant 
who  was  present  by  accident.  When  the  division 
was  carried  to  the  Union  rear,  this  man  was  in 
or  near  the  centre  of  the  mass  of  men,  and  before 
he  could  make  his  way  to  the  outside  they  were 
a  long  way  within  the  Union  lines.  Even  then 
he  made  an  attempt  to  burst  through  the  strong 
line  of  the  guards — was  seized  by  two  or  three  of 
them  and  threatened  with  violence  if  he  did  not 
submit.  He  gave  up  when  overpowered  by  main 
force,  but  when  required  to  pledge  himself  to  go 
with  the  others  quietly  farther  to  the  rear,  re- 
fused to  make  any  promise,  and  said  he  should 
endeavor  to  make  his  escape  at  the  first  opportu- 
nity. An  officer  undertook  to  reason  with  him, 
and  to  show  him  that  by  farther  efforts  he  might 


278  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

compel  them  to  do  him  some  great  personal  in- 
jury. He  endeavored  to  make  him  promise  to 
march  quietly  back  with  the  others  until  they 
were  turned  over  to  the  commissary. 

He  would  make  no  promise.  He  told  the  offi- 
cer that  it  might  be  better  for  him  to  die  then 
and  there  than  to  lead  the  life  of  a  prisoner. 
When  the  names  and  regiments  of  the  others 
were  taken,  he  said  he  did  not  belong  to  any  regi- 
ment and  would  give  no  name.  Some  one  of  the 
prisoners  said  his  name  was  John  Thompson,  of 
some  Arkansas  regiment.  When  asked  if  that 
was  his  name,  he  replied,  "That  name  will  do  as 
well  as  any  other."  When  the  body  of  the  pris- 
oners moved  on,  he  was  left  with  four  or  five 
others  under  a  special  guard.  The  sick  man 
heard  that  his  name  was  Van  Metre  and  that  his 
home  was  in  the  valley.  So  much  he  learned  from 
men  who  claimed  to  know  him. 

This  was  all  the  patient  personally  knew.  He 
heard  afterward  that  Van  Metre  was  believed  to 
be  insane,  and  with  a  small  number  of  others 
equally  unmanageable  had  been  sent  directly 
across  the  river  to  Point  Lookout,  to  a  large  camp 
of  Confederate  prisoners. 

While  this  account  was  rather  incoherent  and 
wholly  failed  to  furnish  any  information  as  to 
Van  Metre's  present  locality,  it  nevertheless,  if  it 
were  true,  proved  that  he  had  reached  the  army 
after  his  escape  from  Camp  Chase,  and  had  been 


"l  HAVE  NOT  FOUND  SO  GREAT  FAITH."   270 

again  taken  prisoner  at  Spottsylvania.  It  thus 
gave  them  a  new  starting-point  in  the  search. 
Bedell  was  much  more  hofjeful  than  his  associate. 
She  did  not  place  much  confidence  in  the  sick 
man's  report,  though  she  joyfully  accepted  it  as 
the  first  evidence  which  she  had  secured  that  her 
husband  was  living  at  so  late  a  period  as  the  bat- 
tle of  Spottsylvania.  They  were  then  nearly  four 
hundred  miles  away  from  Point  Lookout,  and  they 
traversed  the  distance  as  swiftly  as  they  could  be 
transported  by  the  power  of  steam.  Bedell  was 
now  confident  of  success  and  so  sanguine  that  he 
succeeded  in  imparting  some  of  his  confidence  to 
his  dejected  travelling  companion. 

Even  this  small  measure  of  success  was  fortu- 
nate. In  any  enterprise  of  difficulty,  vigorous 
health  and  a  hopeful  temperament  are  the  best 
equij)ment.  More  than  once  the  discouraged  wife 
would  have  given  up  the  search  but  for  Bedell, 
and  now  just  when  they  were  approaching  success, 
one  who  lacked  his  push  and  energy  would  have 
been  driven  from  the  track  by  official  incapacity. 
For  when  they  reached  Camp  Lookout,  the  wife 
worn  down  by  her  exertions  and  almost  overcome 
by  depression,  they  found  it  the  largest  they  had 
encountered,  and  that  the  inspection  of  twenty 
thousand  men  would  be  a  long  and  fatiguing  task. 
The  officer  in  charge,  unacquainted  with  the  cir- 
cumstances, took  only  a  perfunctory  interest  in 
the  work.     He  did  not  intend  to  disobey  the  Sec- 


280  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

retary's  order,  he  said.  There  the  prisoners  were, 
twenty  thousand  of  them.  They  could  examine 
them  at  their  pleasure.  He  did  not  intend  to  in- 
terfere with  or  take  any  resjDonsihility  for  the 
proceeding. 

There  was  a  report  current  at  the  time  that  his 
indifference  raised  the  indignation  of  the  Green 
Mountaineer  to  concert  pitch.  He  informed  the 
officer  that  unless  he  facilitated  the  examination 
by  ordering  the  prisoners  to  be  brought  out  in 
detachments  and  marched  in  single  tile  past  Mrs. 
Van  Metre,  so  that  she  could  plainly  see  the  face 
of  every  one  of  them,  he  would  go  directly  to  Sec- 
retary Stanton  and  let  him  know  with  how  little 
respect  his  order  was  treated.  He  had  an  impres- 
sion, he  said,  that  the  Secretary  would  find  a  way 
to  interest  that  officer  in  the  search. 

The  emphasis  with  which  Bedell  declared  his 
purpose  and  his  familiar  reference  to  Secretary 
Stanton,  who  was  a  special  terror  to  the  "how- 
not-to-do-it"  subordinates  of  the  War  Department, 
proved  effective.  The  officer  in  command  made 
a  virtue  of  necessity  and  declared  that  he  would 
do  anything  within  the  bounds  of  reason  that  Be- 
dell requested.  It  is  due  to  him  to  say  that  no 
complaint  could  have  been  made  of  his  subsequent 
conduct  in  the  premises. 

Under  the  lieutenant's  active  supervision  ar- 
rangements were  made  for  a  very  thorough 
search.     A  tent  was  pitched  in  a  convenient  place 


"I   HAVE   NOT   FOUND    SO   GREAT   FAITH."      281 

in  which  Mrs.  Van  Metre  could  sit  and  see  every 
face  in  succession,  without  being  herself  exposed 
to  the  i3ublic  gaze,  while  the  prisoners  in  single 
file  were  slowly  marching  by.  The  arrangements 
occupied  the  short  December  day,  and  the  move- 
ment of  the  prisoners  was  necessarily  postponed 
until  the  following  morning. 

When  the  morning  came  it  seemed  as  though 
nature  was  conspiring  with  the  evils  of  war  to 
tax  this  burdened  wife  beyond  her  power  to  en- 
dure. She  had  passed  a  sleej)less,  restless  night. 
The  morning  was  inexpressibly  dreary.  A  thick, 
chilling  fog  covered  the  camp  and  its  surround- 
ings, shutting  out  the  rays  and  warmth  of  the  sun. 
Her  strength  and  her  hope  were  both  exhausted. 
Bedell  knew  how  to  inspire  her  to  the  last  exer- 
tion of  which  she  was  capable.  It  was  by  an  ap- 
peal to  her  sense  of  duty.  He  had  been  long 
enough  a  soldier  to  know  what  above  all  other 
remedies  would  restore  strength  to  the  exhausted 
body.  With  his  own  hands  he  prepared  her 
breakfast  of  coffee  and  crackers,  and  pointed  out 
to  her  that  she  must  by  their  use  strengthen  her- 
self for  a  duty  that  might  have  her  husband  for 
its  reward.  She  responded  as  well  as  she  could. 
Under  the  influence  of  the  benignant  draught  she 
walked  to  the  raised  platform  just  inside  the  tent 
used  for  the  purpose  of  the  review,  seated  herself 
upon  it,  and  the  long  procession  began  its  move- 
ment. 


282  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

"When  the  first  prisoner  appeared  she  looked 
into  his  face  with  eager  eyes,  for  then  her  strength 
and  her  hope  were  both  at  their  highest  level. 
She  knew  that  her  trial  would  occupy  several 
hours.  She  had  striven  with  all  her  resolution  to 
qualify  herself  to  endure  it.  One  by  one — one 
by  one,  for  those  long  and  weary  hours,  the  slow 
funereal  procession  moved  on.  Like  the  brave, 
true  woman  she  was,  she  summoned  all  her 
strength  to  maintain  her  composure  and  her  hope. 
The  lieutenant  bravely  continued  to  encourage 
and  sustain  her  with  cheerful  suggestions  and 
hopeful  counsels.  But  the  trial  was  too  severe 
for  poor  humanity  to  sustain.  As  prisoner  after 
prisoner  passed  on  and  the  face  of  the  one  she 
sought  appeared  not,  the  light  of  hope  began  to  die 
out  of  her  eyes,  the  pallor  of  weariness  to  cover  her 
face,  and  when  some  voice  of  doom  called  out, 
"This  is  the  very  last  file  that  is  passing,"  it  was 
as  if  the  waves  of  despair  were  rolling  over  and 
ingulfing  her  soul  beneath  their  cruel  waters,  for 
she  knew  that  her  husband  was  not  there. 

No!  no!  The  very  last  had  not  yet  passed.  It 
was  some  stolid  creature,  careless  of  the  death 
pangs  of  hope  in  a  breaking  heart,  that  raised  that 
false  and  cruel  cry.  The  very  last  file  had  not 
passed.  In  this  camp  they  had  first  inspected  the 
records  of  the  dead,  for  there  the  discouraged 
wife  had  feared  that  the  name  they  sought  would 
be  found.     How  else  than  by  his  death  could  his 


"I   HAVE   NOT   FOUND   SO    GREAT   FAITH."      283 

long  silence  be  explained?  His  name  was  not 
upon  the  long  death-roll.  They  had  next  gone 
through  every  ward  in  the  hospital,  and  as  they 
supposed  had  seen  every  living  prisoner  whose 
name  was  not  upon  the  general  roster.  They 
had  not.  The  general  who  had  inspected  the 
camp  had  found  a  few  tents  not  in  use.  He  knew 
their  value  to  save  men  who  would  die  in  an  in- 
closed building.  He  had  ordered  these  tents  to 
be  pitched  on  some  elevated  ground,  and  into  them 
some  thirty  very  sick  men  had  been  removed  who 
were  now  convalescent. 

These  patients  were  next  directed  to  form  a 
line.  They  did  so  with  sullen  murmurings  and 
complaints,  for  they  with  recovered  health  had 
lost  the  will  and  almost  the  power  of  physical 
movement.  And  the  wife  was  almost  compelled 
by  Bedell  to  again  take  her  place  in  the  reviewing 
tent.  She  did  it  with  the  feeling  of  one  com- 
pelled to  reascend  the  scaffold  because  the  hang- 
man's rope  had  broken  on  the  first  trial.  She  took 
her  seat;  she  awaited  their  coming,  inanimate, 
hopeless  almost,  as  themselves.  The  chance  that 
her  husband  was  among  them  was  too  slender  to 
sustain  a  hope.  If  he  was  not  there,  what  a  life 
of  desolation  lay  before  her !  If  he  was  not  there 
he  was  dead.  When  and  where  he  died  she  was 
never  to  know.  If  his  bones  were  not  bleaching 
upon  some  field  of  death,  if  stranger  hands  had 
covered  them  with  his  mother  earth — he  had  been 


284  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

buried  in  an  unrecorded  grave — where  it  was  or 
when  he  died,  she  should  never  know. 

She  was  listless  and  indifferent  when  they  told 
her  that  the  line  was  approaching.  Some  of  those 
who  formed  it  were  feeble  and  moved  very  slowly, 
none  of  them  with  activity  or  animation.  Bedell 
made  one  more  effort  to  revive  her  spirits  and 
rekindle  her  hope.  It  was  too  late.  There  was 
only  one  thing  in  the  wide  world  that  would 
now  inspire  her  with  the  wish  to  live.  She 
thanked  Bedell  in  her  heart  for  his  kindness  to 
her,  and  then  she  thought  it  pitiable  that  he 
should  waste  his  time  and  energy  upon  one  so 
useless  as  she  deemed  herself  to  be.  By  a  last 
effort,  as  she  believed  it  to  be,  of  her  will  power, 
she  raised  her  eyes  high  enough  to  scan  the  pass- 
ing faces.  One !  two !  three — twenty  of  them  had 
passed,  and  there  was  no  life  in  her  dull  eye,  no 
expression  upon  her  stony  face.  Only  ten  re- 
main. More  listless,  cold,  and  hopeless  than  be- 
fore, she  for  the  last  time  turns  her  head  and 
glances  down  the  short  line  over  its  diminished 
numbers.  But  mark!  why  does  she  start  as  if 
transfixed  by  a  bolt  of  lightning  launched  from 
the  hand  of  Jove?  Why  does  the  light  of  life 
and  love  flame  out  from  that  weary  eye?  Why 
does  that  look  of  devout  thanksgiving  illuminate 
that  stony  face ?  See !  she  starts !  Like  a  mother 
leaping  to  grasp  her  child  saved  from  sudden 
death,    she  bounds   from    her  seat.      Half-way 


"l   HAVE   NOT   FOUND    SO   GREAT   FAITH."      285 

down  the  line  she  marks  a  well-known  form. 
Like  an  arrow  from  the  bow  she  clears  the  inter- 
vening space,  she  grasps  with  all  her  revived 
strength  the  poor,  pale,  emaciated  form  of  one 
who  faints  in  her  embrace,  and  the  palpitating 
heart  of  her  husband  is  beating  against  her  own. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE    HARD   LOT   OF   A  PRISONER   OF   WAR — ONE   OF 
THEM   TOUCHES   THE   END    OF   HIS   SUFFERINGS. 

Of  all  the  miseries  of  war  imprisonment  is  the 
chief.  There  is  no  condition  of  human  existence 
so  destructive  to  the  life  of  the  mind  as  well  as 
the  body  as  that  of  a  prisoner  of  war.  In  all 
other  species  of  confinement  the  man  has  some- 
thing to  which  he  can  look  forward.  He  knows 
there  is  to  be  an  end  to  it.  The  term  is  fixed  in 
most  cases,  and  when  it  is  not  he  can  determine 
it  proximately.  In  our  great  civil  war  the  only 
certainty  the  prisoner  had  was  that  there  was  to 
be  no  exchange.  Escape  or  the  end  of  the  war 
alone  would  give  him  his  freedom.  After  a  brief 
experience  few  of  them  had  the  energy  for  an  at- 
tempt to  escape,  and  when  the  end  of  the  war 
would  come  no  man  could  foretell. 

Occupation  is  a  necessity  of  human  life.  The 
mind  unemployed  always  broods  over  the  past. 
In  the  case  of  a  healthy  man  protracted  idleness 
inevitably  causes  despondency,  and  despondency 
too  often  death.  Those  who  were  in  civil  life  saw 
the  results  and  heard  of  the  horrors  of  Anderson - 

286 


THE   HARD    LOT   OF   A   PRISONER  OF   WAR.      287 

ville  and  Belle  Isle.  But  we  had  no  conception 
of  the  dread  of  the  soldiers  for  those  terrible  hells. 
Many  a  brave  man  resisted  to  his  death  rather  than 
to  go  to  one  of  those  prisons  and  slowly  perish. 
"Surrender,  or  we  will  bayonet  you!"  shouted 
their  pursuers  to  the  belated  skirmishers  leaping 
from  tie  to  tie  on  the  railroad  bridge  across  the 
Monocacy,  when  overtaken  by  an  overwhelming 
Confederate  force  which  captured  only  those  upon 
which  they  could  lay  hands.  The  others  crossed 
and  threw  themselves  into  the  bushes,  while  their 
bayoneted  companions  fell  forty  feet  into  the 
river,  some  of  them  to  survive  the  battle  and  the 
war. 

Van  Metre  had  had  experience  in  captivity  for 
some  months  before  his  last  capture.  Even  in 
Camp  Chase,  well  known  as  the  healthiest  of  the 
prison  camps,  he  had  become  so  enfeebled  that  he 
believed  death  was  inevitable,  and  so  took  the 
risk  of  attempting  to  escape.  At  Point  Lookout, 
confined  in  an  unhealthy  locality,  guarded  by 
negroes  with  whom  he  could  have  no  conversa- 
tion, he  was  very  soon  in  a  favorable  condition  of 
body  for  an  early  and  a  severe  attack  of  the  pre- 
vailing epidemic.  Before  describing  his  experi- 
ence more  minutely,  it  may  interest  the  reader  to 
make  a  brief  reference  to  the  effects  of  confine- 
ment upon  the  prisoners  in  some  of  the  other 
places  of  detention. 

In  the  experience  of  modern  wars  no  place  has 
19 


288  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

ever  approached  in  its  horrors  or  its  mortality  the 
prison  pen  of  Anderson ville.  Its  infernal  de- 
structiveness  may  have  been  chargeable  to  a  large 
extent  to  the  ferocious  brute  who  had  it  under 
control.  But  its  condition  was  not  altogether  un- 
known to  the  Confederate  authorities,  for  several 
Southern  officers  of  high  rank  repeatedly  protested 
against  the  cruelty  of  herding  so  large  a  number 
of  prisoners  there,  under  conditions  so  fatal  to  hu- 
man life.  I  am  not  discussing  here  the  question 
of  responsibility  for  it.  It  fully  meets  my  pur- 
pose to  make  a  statement  which  cannot  be  con- 
troverted, that  every  individual  who  was  there  for 
so  long  a  term  as  three  months  perished  if  he 
did  not  make  an  intelligent  fight  for  his  life. 

I  knew  a  young  private  who  had  wasted  over 
a  year  in  that  horrible  den,  and  who  after  Appo- 
mattox was  released  in  a  fairly  good  condition  of 
health.  I  asked  him  how  he  managed  to  preserve 
his  life  when  so  many  stronger  men  perished. 
He  appeared  to  make  no  effort  to  control  his  emo- 
tions when  he  replied. 

"I  ought,"  he  said,  "to  blush  with  shame  for 
my  own  selfishness  when  I  answer  that  question. 
But  I  will  try  to  answer  it  truly.  When  I  was 
put  inside  of  that  stockade,  all  those  thousands 
were  living  like  burrowing  animals  in  holes, 
wherever  they  could  make  an  excavation.  The 
water  was  foul  and  sickening — they  could  not  get 
enough  of  it  to  wash  their  feet  and  hands  once  in 


THE   HARD   LOT   OF   A   PRISONER   OF  WAR.     289 

ten  daj's ;  the  food  was  insufficient  in  quantity 
and  unfit  for  anything  living  to  eat;  their 
clothes  were  in  rags — they  seemed  to  have  lost 
all  desire  for  a  decent  appearance.  They  all 
had  that  look  of  hopeless  despondency  which  I 
never  saw  elsewhere.  They  had  no  exercise. 
You  may  judge  how  they  wanted  it  when  I  assure 
you  that  men  fought  for  the  privilege  of  going 
out  each  morning  to  bury  the  dead  and  to  grub 
the  roots  of  stumps  and  dead  trees  for  a  little 
wood.  Their  deaths  were  frequent  and  often  in- 
explicable. They  died  without  an  effort  to  live. 
Men  apparently  as  well  as  the  average  at  sunset 
were  cold  in  death  before  the  next  morning. 

"  I  had  read  in  my  boyhood  of  one  prisoner  who 
tamed  a  mouse,  of  another  who  cultivated  a  flower 
in  his  captivity.  I  knew  now  why  they  became 
so  attached  to  these  little  objects.  I  knew  that 
there  was  only  one  way  for  me  to  escape  the  com- 
mon fate.  I  must  keep  my  mind  and  body  both 
employed — not  an  easy  thing  to  be  done  where 
every  prisoner  was  searched  and  everything  taken 
from  him.  I  had  a  plug  of  tobacco  and  an  old 
jack-knife  which  I  managed  to  secrete  when  I 
was  searched  upon  my  arrival.  I  cut  the  tobacco 
into  small  cubes,  and  these  were  my  stock  in  trade 
— my  capital.  These  I  traded  for  bits  of  candle, 
pieces  of  wood,  buttons,  a  needle  and  thread — for 
anything  of  which  any  use  could  be  made.  I  am 
ashamed  to  tell  you  how  mean  and  selfish  [  was. 


290  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

Until  then  I  never  knew  how  contemptible  a 
wretch  I  could  make  of  myself.  I  haggled,  lied, 
argued,  played  the  tricks  of  the  horse- jockey.  I 
have  spent  an  hour  and  got  very  angry  over  one 
of  these  trades.  I  have  sometimes  traded  a  poor 
fellow  out  of  something  useful,  and  then  given  it 
back  to  him,  for  it  was  occupation  and  not  profit 
I  was  seeking.  I  soon  accumulated  stock  and 
became  a  capitalist,  for  I  was  economical  and 
gave  my  whole  time  to  my  mercantile  business. 
What  a  luxury  it  was  to  me  to  give  to  some  poor 
dying  man  some  little  delicacy  which  I  was  able 
to  purchase  for  him ! 

"  Then  the  villain  Wurtz  did  me  a  great  favor. 
He  robbed  me  of  all  my  accumulations.  He  made 
me  mad  up  to  the  point  of  recklessness.  I  told 
him  to  his  face  that  he  was  a  brute — a  merciless 
wretch — a  cold-blooded  murderer.  I  expected 
that  he  would  draw  his  revolver  and  shoot  me 
down.  Instead  of  that  he  cringed  like  the  cow- 
ard he  was.  Then  I  told  him  that  I  should  live 
to  see  him  hung,  and  that  I  would  be  there  at 
the  entertainment  if  I  had  to  walk  barefooted  a 
thousand  miles.  Thank  God,  I  saw  him  hung ! 
I  was  a  witness  on  his  trial.  It  was  very  wicked, 
I  know,  but  when  I  saw  him  struggling  in  the 
agonies  of  death  I  prayed  that  they  might  be 
lengthened  and  drawn  out  until  he  paid  for  every 
one  of  his  murders  by  a  good  half -hour  of  dying 
torture.     I  was  a  willing  witness,   and  some  of 


THE   HARD   LOT   OF  A   PRISONER  OF  WAR.     291 

his  judges  said  that  my  testimony  was  very  con- 
vincing. 

"  I  say  he  did  me  a  favor,  for  when  he  robhed  me 
I  was  at  first  incHned  to  give  up  and  fight  for  life 
no  longer.  But  the  storm  cleared  my  mind  and 
made  me  resolve  that  the  brute  should  not  have 
the  gratification  of  my  death.  I  went  again  to 
my  business,  and  I  continued  it  until  we  left  that 
dreadful  place  in  advance  of  Sherman  marching 
through  Georgia.  In  short,  by  incessant  occupa- 
tion of  body  and  mind  I  saved  my  own  life,  when 
thousands  of  better  and  stronger  men  sank  under 
the  trial  and  were  carried  to  their  graves." 

Van  Metre,  when  first  taken  prisoner,  was  a 
young  man  in  vigorous  health.  He  began  to 
suffer  in  Camp  Chase,  and  he  was  weakened  by 
hunger  and  exposure  in  making  his  way  on  foot 
and  in  the  night  all  that  long  way  from 
Central  Ohio  to  the  army  of  Virginia.  His  expe- 
riences from  his  second  capture  have  already  been 
described.  When  he  was  discovered  by  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Union  general  he  was  very  near  the  end 
of  his  suffering  and  his  life.  In  some  respects 
his  case  was  not  unlike  Bedell's,  for  his  life  had 
been  saved  by  the  ministrations  of  a  woman. 
Her  kindness  and  skilful  nursing,  her  personal 
interest  in  him  which  again  kindled  hope  in  his 
heart,  had  literally  called  him  back  from  the  bor- 
ders of  the  grave.  But  when  she  left  him  and 
went  elsewhere,  when  day  after  day  passed  and 


292  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

brought  no  answer  to  his  letter,  no  news  of  his 
wife  or  his  home,  he  again  gave  up  all  hope,  and 
lost  with  his  strength  all  desire  to  live.  He  was 
waiting  and  praying  for  death  when  the  hour  of 
his  delivery  came. 

Our  heroine's  long  search  was  ended  now.  The 
true-hearted  woman  of  the  valley  brought  the 
order  for  his  discharge  at  the  moment  when  she 
held  him  in  her  loving  arms.  But  her  trials  were 
not  all  ended.  The  frail,  emaciated  being  she  had 
found  was  but  a  poor  substitute  for  the  strong, 
vigorous  husband  she  had  given  to  the  Confed- 
eracy. He  could  scarcely  stand  erect.  He  fainted 
in  the  joy  of  recognition  and  she  carried  him  into 
the  tent  away  from  the  gaze  of  the  crowd.  She 
laid  him  on  his  cot  as  tenderly  as  if  he  were  her 
child.  He  soon  recovered  his  consciousness,  but 
a  sharjD  pang  pierced  her  heart  when  she  saw  his 
weakness  and  was  by  no  means  certain  that  he 
would  ever  be  stronger. 

Possibly  ho  never  would  have  been  with  ordi- 
nary treatment.  Upon  that  treatment  he  was  not 
required  to  depend.  The  time  had  come  for  Be- 
dell to  exhibit  his  value  as  a  curative  agent.  It 
was  appointed  to  hina  to  give  to  the  worn  and 
weary  prisoner  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy 
for  mourning,  and  the  garment  of  praise  for  the 
spirit  of  heaviness.  Minus  his  limb,  Eichard  was 
himself  again.  He  had  recovered  his  splendid 
vigor  of  body  and,  now  that  Van  Metre  was  found, 


THE   HARD   LOT   OF  A   PRISONER   OF   WAR.      293 

his  overflowing  exuberance  of  spirits,  "Wherever 
he  went  he  carried  with  him  an  atmosphere  of 
invigoration,  and  every  time  he  came  into  the  sick 
man's  presence  he  brought  an  abundant  supply  of 
courage,  health,  and  hope. 

He  knew  that  joy  never  killed.  He  had  no 
fear  that  any  sick  man  could  be  made  worse  by 
the  presence  of  Betty  Van  Metre.  He  was  care- 
ful to  see  that  she  was  provided  with  remedies 
and  restoratives,  and  then  he  left  the  long-sepa- 
rated to  their  mutual  and  natural  confidences. 

But  not  for  too  long  a  time,  for  he  suspected 
that  they  might  devise  some  plans  for  their  im- 
mediate future  which  would  interfere  with  his 
own  arrangements.  Therefore,  early  one  morn- 
ing he  entered  their  tent  as  he  supposed  in  the 
most  quiet  and  noiseless  manner,  but  in  fact  with 
the  roar  of  a  small  cyclone,  and,  in  a  voice  ring- 
ing with  cheerfulness,  demanded  to  know  wheth- 
er they  would  be  ready  to  leave  for  the  Green 
Mountains  next  morning. 

It  was  as  he  half  supposed.  As  soon  as  Van 
Metre  was  strong  enough  to  converse,  their 
thoughts  had  turned  toward  their  home.  Van 
Metre  knew  nothing  of  the  obligations  of  tlie 
Union  officer  to  his  vdfe,  and  in  her  joy  over  the 
recovery  of  her  husband  the  arrangement  made 
at  Harper's  Ferry  had  for  the  moment  escaped 
her  memory.  They  had  agreed  that  it  would  be 
necessary  to  remain  where  they  were  until  Van 


^94  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

Metre  was  strong  enough  to  travel,  when  they 
would  go  to  Harper's  Ferry,  and,  as  soon  as  they 
could,  they  would  thence  make  their  way  to  the 
homestead  in  Clarke  County. 

"I  have  an  objection  to  that  arrangement," 
said  Bedell,  "  which  makes  it  impossible.  It  ought 
not  to  be  done  and  it  cannot  be  done." 

"I  do  not  see  why  it  is  impossible,"  said  Van 
Metre,  "if,  as  I  am  informed,  an  order  exists  for 
my  discharge." 

"  The  reasons  are  so  numerous  that  I  have  not 
counted  them,"  was  Bedell's  reply.  "The  natu- 
ral justice  of  your  wife  should  have  pointed  out 
to  both  of  you  that  your  return  to  the  valley,  or 
your  movement  in  any  other  direction  than  to 
my  home  in  Vermont,  cannot  now  be  considered. 
In  the  first  place,  she  is  under  contract  to  go 
there,  and  has  already  sent  forward  her  niece  as 
a  pledge  for  its  performance.  She  is  too  honora- 
ble to  recede  from  a  fair  agreement.  Then  there 
is  no  place  where  you.  Van  Metre,  can  recover 
your  health  and  spirits  so  quickly  and  so  cer- 
tainly as  in  the  pure,  crisp  air  of  our  Green  Moun- 
tains. Berryville  is  now  within  the  Confederate 
lines,  and  though  Secretary  Stanton  has  evinced 
his  high  esteem  for  Mrs.  Van  Metre,  I  doubt 
whether  he  would  give  her  a  pass  to  go  there. 
Finally,  you  and  I,  A^an  Metre,  have  done  our  full 
share  of  the  fighting  in  this  war.  I  have  left  a 
good  fourth  of  my  body  somewhere  on  the  banks 


THE   HARD    LOT   OF   A   PRISONER   OF   WAR.      295 

of  the  Opequan;  you  have  indefinitely  scattered 
your  health  between  Camp  Chase  in  Central  Ohio 
and  the  James  River.  Now  suppose  we  offset  our 
remaining  military  value,  one  against  the  other, 
and  let  others  finish  the  fighting  of  which  we  have 
done  our  share.  Then  you  shall  come  to  Vermont 
with  me,  and  when  your  health  and  strength  are 
restored  we  can  lay  plans  for  the  future.  If  you 
could  now  return  to  the  valley,  they  would  again 
force  you  into  the  service." 

"But  why  should  I  impose  myself  upon  you  in 
Vermont?"  demanded  Van  Metre.  "What  have 
I  done  that  you  should  make  me  a  proposition  so 
liberal?" 

"You,  perhaps,  have  done  nothing.  Your 
wife  has  saved  my  life  in  the  hope  that  her  doing 
so  might  benefit  you.  I  shall  leave  her  to  give 
you  that  history.  I  am  not  the  man  to  disappoint 
her  hope." 

"This  is  all  new  to  me,"  protested  Van  Metre. 
"I  suppose  I  ought  to  remain  here  for  a  time.  I 
am  scarcely  able  now  to  endure  the  fatigue  of 
travel.  When  I  am,  I  would  like  to  do  what 
is  best  and  right.  What  that  will  be  I  do  not 
know,  for  my  judgment  has  failed  with  my 
health.  I  will  leave  the  decision  to  my  wife  and 
to  you." 

"  Then  we  may  as  well  decide  now  to  comply 
with  the  suggestions  of  the  lieutenant,"  said  Mrs. 
Van  Metre.     "His  wife  controls  me  without  an 


296  AN  UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

effort  and  without  resistance.  He  may  establish 
a  similar  control  over  you." 

"Yielding  to  reason  is  not  control,"  said  Be- 
dell. "Men  persuade,  they  do  not  control  each 
other." 

Two  points  upon  the  Potomac  Eiver  should  be 
forever  noted  in  history  for  their  association  with 
the  miseries  of  war.  They  are  Acquia  Creek,  in 
Stafford  County,  about  twenty  miles  below  Wash- 
ington, and  Point  Lookout,  the  peninsula  formed 
by  the  junction  of  the  Potomac  Eiver  and  Chesa- 
peake Bay.  The  first  was  the  place  where  the 
wounded  from  the  terrible  battles  of  the  sum- 
mer of  1864:  were  collected  for  transportation  by 
steamer  to  Washington;  the  second,  the  camp 
where  the  prisoners  from  the  same  battles  were 
confined.  Twenty  thousand  wounded  men  have 
been  collected  at  Acquia  Creek  from  the  conflicts 
of  a  single  week.  Twenty  thousand  jDrisoners 
have  been  confined  at  Point  Lookout  at  one  time. 
That  number  of  idle  men  anywhere  would  breed 
discomfort  and  disease,  but  at  Point  Lookout 
there  were  special  facilities  for  misery.  There 
were  dense,  damp  winter  fogs  that  pierced  to  the 
very  marrow ;  there  were  no  facilities  for  heat- 
ing and  the  sick  in  the  hospitals  were  among  the 
chief  sufferers.  Van  Metre  insisted  upon  the  con- 
stant presence  of  Bedell  in  his  tent,  for  he  said 
his  face  was  a  better  preventive  than  quinine  for 
the  chills  which  followed  his  fever  and  were  in- 


THE   HARD   LOT   OF   A   PRISONER   OP   WAR.      297 

creased  in  length  and  discomfort  by  the  gloomy 
weather.  Bedell  endured  this  discomfort  only 
for  a  few  days.  A  morning  came  when  he  took 
command  of  the  situation.  Entering  the  tent 
where  Mrs.  Van  Metre  was  vainly  endeavoring  to 
extract  the  cold  and  moisture  from  the  atmos- 
phere by  a  liberal  combustion  of  kerosene,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"Come!  Make  such  preparations  as  you  can 
to  leave  this  dismal  place.  I  have  provided  for 
the  safety  and  comfort  of  the  patient.  As  soon 
as  you  can  get  ready,  a  steamer  will  leave  this 
camp  for  Washington  with  no  passengers  but 
ourselves.  We  are  to  have  the  use  of  the  well- 
heated  ladies'  cabin.  We  will  start  for  a  coun- 
try where  the  atmosphere  is  suited  to  honest  men 
and  good  women.  Here  a  little  air  makes  one 
wish  to  die ;  there,  the  more  of  it  you  breathe 
the  more  you  wish  to  live.  Van  Metre,"  he  said, 
warming  with  enthusiasm,  "if  at  this  moment 
you  were  sitting  before  my  big  fireplace,  with  the 
chimney  roaring  like  the  escaping  steam  in  a  lo- 
comotive as  the  flames  go  up  from  the  maple 
back-log,  with  the  children  cracking  butternuts 
on  the  hearth,  a  pitcher  of  cider  on  the  table,  and 
your  wife  with  a  happy  face  sewing  by  your  side, 
the  winds  and  the  weather  might  rage  like  the 
heathen  out-of-doors  and  they  would  not  disturb 
you.  That  country  is  white  and  cold  in  winter 
out-of-doors,  but  the  hearts  and  the  homes  of  its 


298  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

people  are  warm  at  all  seasons.  For  that  coun- 
try we  start  this  morning." 

"We  cannot!  We  have  talked  the  matter  over 
and  it  would  not  be  right  to  burden " 

"  Not  another  word !  I  am  the  stronger  now 
and  I  am  going  to  take  command  and  charge, 
just  as  you  did  when  I  lay  helpless  in  that 
desolate  room.  You,  madam,  have  only  your- 
self to  prepare.  The  nurses  will  carry  your  hus- 
band on  board.  If  you  make  any  resistance 
they  will  also  carry  you.  I  see  they  are  coming 
now." 

Mrs.  Van  Metre  surrendered.  She  had  no 
power  to  withstand  such  impetuosity.  Besides, 
in  her  heart  she  believed  that  the  change  and  the 
company  of  Bedell  would  lift  her  husband  out  of 
his  present  depression  and  restore  him  to  health. 
Her  preparations  therefore  involved  no  delay. 
Under  the  Secretary's  order  she  receipted  for 
the  body  of  her  husband ;  he  was  carried  on  board 
with  the  crippled  officer  and  herself  as  his  only 
companions;  the  lines  of  the  steamer  were  cast 
off,  and  as  she  gracefully  swept  around  the  first 
turn  in  the  river  Point  Lookout  forever  disap- 
peared from  their  view. 

The  condition  of  Van  Metre  improved  with 
every  mile  left  astern  by  the  steamer.  By  the 
time  they  reached  the  landing  in  Washington, 
he  was  moving  about  the  cabin  slightly  assisted 
by  his  wife.     The  steamer  was  to  lie  at  her  wharf 


THE   HARD    LOT   OF  A   PRISONER   OF   WAR.      299 

for  some  repairs  to  her  machinery.  The  whole 
party  lived  quietly  on  board,  Bedell  only  leaving 
her  long  enough  to  arrange  for  their  transporta- 
tion to  Vermont  and  to  discharge  a  most  agreea- 
ble duty.  He  called  upon  General  Hitchcock  and 
Secretary  Stanton  and  informed  them  of  the  suc- 
cess of  the  search  for  Van  Metre.  He  learned 
that  justice  did  not  travel  with  leaden  feet  in  the 
War  Department.  The  report  of  the  veteran  in- 
spector of  prisons  had  produced  an  order  for  a 
court-martial  to  try  the  faithless  wretch  who  had 
brought  Van  Metre  so  near  to  the  gates  of  death. 
But  for  a  providential  favor  he  would  have  been 
recalled  from  Vermont  as  a  witness  upon  the  trial. 
But  the  culprit  met  his  deserts  in  a  more  speedy 
way.  He  learned  of  the  order  for  his  trial  on  the 
day  that  the  party  left  the  camp.  He  stole  a 
small  boat  and  started  to  cross  the  river,  prefer- 
ring to  take  his  chances  with  the  Confederates. 
He  was  discovered  and  ordered  by  the  sentinel  to 
return.  He  disobeyed  the  order  and  kept  on  his 
way ;  but  he  could  not  outspeed  the  bullet  from 
the  Winchester  which  sped  through  his  merciless 
heart.  He  plunged  overboard  and  disappeared 
beneath  the  muddy  waters  of  the  Potomac.  It 
was  a  more  merciful  death  than  he  deserved,  and 
it  anticipated  only  by  a  few  days  his  execution 
hy  the  sentence  of  a  court-martial.  For  just  then 
the  people  of  the  North  were  beginning  to  appre- 
ciate how  great  a  volume  of  human  suffering 


300  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

could  be  created  by  one  such  man  in  a  camp  of 
prisoners  of  war,  and  were  demanding,  in  tones 
that  struck  terror  to  the  hearts  of  incompetent  or 
faithless  officers,  kind  and  considerate  treatment 
for  the  captured. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy 
cometh  in  the  morning." 

From  the  miseries  of  the  prison  camp,  the 
thunder  of  battle,  and  the  turmoil  of  bloody  war, 
we  turn  to  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  north  coun- 
try. Nature  has  just  prepared  it  for  a  festival  of 
thanksgiving.  Through  the  night  the  snow- 
flakes  with  noiseless  wing  have  been  covering  the 
earth  with  a  garment  of  spotless  purity.  Just 
when  it  was  finishing,  a  gentle  warmth  has 
molded  these  flakes  into  crystals  which  have  con- 
verted every  naked  branch  into  a  drooping  spray, 
heavy  with  jewels  which  glint  and  sparkle  like 
diamonds  in  the  yellow  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 
Nature  loves  contrasts,  and  lovely  as  emeralds  in 
their  silver  settings  are  the  dark  evergreens  above 
the  snow.  The  air  is  cold,  but  it  teems  with  elec- 
tric life.  The  horses  are  sportive  in  harness,  the 
cattle  and  the  sheep  are  leaping  and  racing  in 
the  farm-yards — animal  nature  is  full  to  the  over- 
flow of  vivacity  and  exhilaration. 

There  is  no  wind.  The  blue  smoke  from  the 
early-lighted  hearths  of  the  scattered  homes  goes 
straight  upward  until  it  is  lost  in  the  air  filled 

301 


302  AN  UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

with  innumerable  scales  of  frozen  moisture.  With 
ruddy  faces  and  frosted  breath,  the  sturdy  farm- 
ers turn  out  with  their  spirited  but  well-broken 
teams  to  break  out  the  roads  and  tread  the  snow 
so  that  their  polished  sleigh-runners  shall  draw 
musical  sounds  from  the  cold,  hard  path  over 
which  they  swiftly  glide.  If  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  there  is  a  region  where  man  with  every 
breath  draws  in  a  new  supply  of  health  and 
strength  and  glorious  vigor  of  body  and  mind,  it 
is  Vermont  on  a  winter's  morning. 

There  is  one  household  in  which  unusual  ac- 
tivity prevails.  From  early  dawn  its  mistress 
with  her  own  family  and  a  young  girl  visitor 
have  been  busy  in  preparation  and  decoration. 
In  the  kitchen  she  has  been  the  Lady  Bountiful, 
and  now  they  are  making  the  house  beautiful 
with  wreaths  of  evergreens.  Opposite  the  front 
door,  along  the  walls  of  the  square  room,  in  large 
capitals  out  of  the  branches  of  the  hemlock  and 
the  cedar  are  formed  the  words  "  Welcome  home. " 
Many  times  during  the  day  a  neighbor's  team 
has  dashed  up  to  tiie  door,  and  an  eager  face 
thrust  inside  has  asked,  "Are  you  certain  they 
are  coming  to-night?"  And  every  one  has  had 
the  same  answer,  "Yes!  certain.  We  have  tele- 
grams from  them ;  we  know  that  they  are  on  the 
train." 

There  are  hearts  in  that  household  whose  loving 
impatience  is  too  powerful  to  be  suppressed.     As 


"but   joy    COMETH    IN   THE    MORNING."         303 

often  as  oDce  every  half -hour  the  temporary  mas- 
ter of  the  household,  the  little  colonel,  has  had  to 
be  assured  that  the  clock  has  not  stopped.  When 
it  has  been  opened  to  show  him  the  pendulum  still 
swinging,  he  has  declared  that  he  had  doubted 
the  statement  in  the  Sunday-school  lesson  that 
"the  sun  stood  still  upon  Gibeon,"  but  there  was 
no  doubt  whatever  that  to-day  it  stood  still  upon 
Jay  Mountain.  The  test  of  his  self-restraint  was 
still  more  severe  when  toward  evening  he  saw 
the  sleighs  of  the  neighbors  moving  swiftly 
toward  the  railroad  station  and  he  knew  that 
others  would  welcome  his  brave  father  before 
he  saw  the  face  of  his  own  son.  With  the  ap- 
proach of  darkness  he  was  given  employment. 
He  had  lighted  the  lamps  and  placed  them  in  the 
windows,  so  many  and  so  bright  that  from  a 
distance  the  whole  house  seemed  ablaze. 

Then  they  all  waited  for  the  promised  signal 
from  the  railway  station,  doubtful  whether  it 
could,  be  heard  so  far.  But  fortune  had  suspended 
its  persecutions  for  the  time,  and  the  hand  of  the 
clock  moved  never  so  slowly,  but  was  coming  very 
near  to  the  time  when  the  train  would  be  due. 
One  more  minute  passes.  This  time  the  locomo- 
tive will  not  disappoint  them.  It  seems  to  feel 
the  strong  attraction  of  loving  hearts  for  each 
other  and  shows  its  best  speed.  With  a  fierce 
triumphant  scream,  it  hauls  the  train  into  the 
station  two  whole  ininutes  ahead  of  time. 

20 


304  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

At  the  moment  of  the  whistle  a  torrent  of  flame 
bursts  from  the  muzzle  of  the  borrowed  cannon, 
spreads  outward  and  upward  like  a  sea  wave,  and 
recoils  from  the  rock  faces  of  the  mountain.  Do 
they  hear  it  in  the  home  of  the  Bedells?  They 
could  not  close  their  impatient  ears  against  it, 
for  now  every  rock  that  responds  to  the  discharges 
in  quick  succession  unites  them  into  a  thunder 
roll  heard  through  all  the  region,  as  if  mountain, 
forest,  and  tree  were  breaking  forth  into  rejoicings 
to  welcome  a  brave  soldier  returning  from  the 
wars. 

And  now  the  moment  has  come  for  which  the 
boy  and  his  comrades  have  waited  so  impatiently. 
They  have  prepared  their  own  signal  of  welcome. 
It  is  on  an  elevation ;  away  from  the  buildings 
they  have  set  up  a  huge  pile  of  dry  logs  on  end. 
To-day  they  haA^e  swept  away  every  flake  of  snow 
and  filled  the  interstices  with  splinters  of  fat  pine. 
Each  boy  now  seizes  his  lighted  torch  and  fires 
the  pile  all  around  the  base.  The  flames  creep 
swiftly  around  every  log,  then  leap  to  the  summit, 
and  a  circular  pyramid  of  fire  lights  up  the  road 
to  the  station  and  illuminates  the  surrounding 
country. 

The  cheers  of  many  voices  succeed  to  the  reports 
of  cannon.  Over  a  distant  hill  comes  a  team. 
Its  four  spirited  horses  scatter  music  from  their 
bells  as,  under  the  guiding  reins  of  their  skilful 
driver,   they  speed   along  the  snowy  road  as  if 


"but   joy    COMETH    IN    THE    MORNING."         305 

proud  of  the  burden  they  draw.  Fearless  of  the 
bonfire,  never  once  breaking  their  swift  trotting 
step,  they  dash  up  to  and  stand  like  statues  be- 
fore an  open  door.  Something  large  and  very 
much  alive  within  an  army  overcoat  springs  from 
the  sleigh  on  a  single  leg  and  with  both  arms 
grasps  a  woman  who  fears  the  giant  embrace  so 
little  that  she  does  not  turn  away  her  face.  There 
is  a  creaking,  osculatory  sound  as  when  the  sleigh 
moves  swiftly  over  the  cold,  hard  snow.  Then 
the  arm  of  the  overcoat  lifts  a  man  out  of  the 
conveyance  and  sets  him  on  his  feet.  A  woman 
follows — the  two  women  meet  with  more  sounds 
of  osculation.  An  irregular  procession,  with  a 
cripple  using  his  wife  as  a  substitute  for  a  lack- 
ing leg  and  with  children  swarming  up  his  back, 
at  its  head,  enters  the  house,  followed  by  two 
strangers,  and  the  Van  Metres  are  within  the 
hospitable  home  of  the  Bedells. 

The  travellers  have  reached  a  haven  where 
there  is  no  anxiety  or  fear.  The  guests  are  ex- 
tracted from  their  unaccustomed  polar  wraps  and 
shown  to  a  room  on  the  ground -floor,  with  a  warn- 
ing that  but  little  time  can  be  spared  them  for 
preparation,  for  a  slight  repast  is  waiting  which 
must  be  cleared  away  before  the  fast  teams  of  the 
neighbors  who  met  them  at  the  station  can  gather 
in  their  wives  and  daughters  and  return.  They 
conformed  to  the  wishes  of  their  hostess  and  were 
soon   seated  at  her  board  of  simple   New    Eng- 


300  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE. 

land  fare.  She  was  unable  to  set  before  them 
anything  more  appetizing  than  a  young  turkey, 
with  its  chestnut  stuffing  and  cranberry  accesso- 
ries, young  and  tender  chickens  roasted,  fricasseed, 
broiled,  and  browned  into  a  pie  with  flaky  crust, 
a  boiled  ham  of  a  delicate  pink  color,  sausages, 
apple-sauce  with  boiled  cider,  and  a  miscellaneous 
assortment  of  puddings,  mince,  apple,  custard, 
and  golden  pumpkin  pies  serving  as  side-dishes 
and  dessert.  With  these  and  other  incidentals 
the  travellers  managed  to  keep  hunger  at  a  dis- 
tance for  the  time.  They  had  scarcely  done  jus- 
tice to  the  homely  cheer  before  the  music  of  the 
sleigh-bells  and  the  runners  creaking  upon  the 
hard  snow  announced  the  coming  of  the  guests. 
The  "  welcome"  on  the  wall  pervaded  the  house. 
Never,  even  in  warm-hearted  Vermont,  was  it 
more  cordial  than  that  of  his  fellow-citizens  and 
their  wives  to  Bedell  and  to  the  woman  who  had 
saved  his  life ;  never  was  it  more  warmly  recipro- 
cated than  by  Bedell  and  his  efficient  wife. 

The  Van  Metres  would  have  appropriated  none 
of  this  cordiality  to  themselves,  and  yet  they  could 
not  but  feel  more  like  honored  guests  than  stran- 
gers. Van  Metre  had  borne  the  journey  well.  He 
was  stronger  than  when  he  left  Washington. 
But  Bedell  would  take  no  risks,  and  after  he  was 
presented  to  the  guests  insisted  that  he  should 
retire.  The  bed  was  so  much  more  comfortable 
than  any  which  he  had  used  since  his  first  capture 


"but   joy    COMETH    IN   THE    MORNING."         307 

that  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  compose 
himself  to  sleep. 

For  the  absence  of  the  heroine  of  the  valley 
the  guests  would  accept  no  excuse.  She  was  the 
attraction  of  the  evening — the  brave  woman  who 
had  saved  the  life  of  their  fellow-citizen.  She 
it  was  whom  the  husbands  came  to  honor,  their 
wives  to  know  and  to  love. 

That  was  also  a  memorable  occasion  for  Bedell. 
He  learned  how  well  he  stood  in  the  esteem  of 
his  neighbors,  and  he  was  not  spoiled  by  their 
praises.  He  could  not  decline  to  gratify  their 
desire  to  hear  an  account  of  his  life  in  the  valley, 
though  his  story  was  little  more  than  a  hymn  of 
praises  for  his  preserver.  She,  poor  woman,  was 
as  much  embarrassed  as  she  had  been  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Secretary  Stanton.  She  had  a  hard  exiieri- 
ence  with  the  impetuous  beings  of  her  own  sex. 
After  her  husband  retired,  Mrs.  Bedell  took  her 
arm  and  with  it  exclusive  possession  of  her  person. 
She  presented  her  to  the  wives  of  her  neighbors 
as  her  creditor  for  her  husband's  life.  She  ex- 
tolled her  courage  and  her  fearless  performance 
of  her  dut}".  "  She  is  henceforth  to  be  my  sister," 
she  said,  "with  whom  I  hope  to  share  whatever 
of  good  fortune  hereafter  comes  to  me." 

The  modest  Virginian,  so  fearless  in  the  pres- 
ence of  real  danger,  was  overcome  by  the  love  of 
many  generous  hearts.  She  appealed  to  her  host- 
ess with  the  simplicity  of  a  child.     "  You  must 


308  AN   UNKNOWN    HEROINE, 

assist  me,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  think  what  I 
ought  to  say — the  words  will  not  come.  I  must 
be  losing  the  little  mind  I  once  possessed ;  if  you 
do  not  help  me  they  will  think  me  very  stupid!" 

"Then  do  not  try  to  think  or  speak,"  was  the 
counsel  of  her  friend.  "You  are  with  those  who 
will  appreciate  your  silence  far  better  than  my 
volubility." 

She  did  break  the  silence,  however,  when,  as 
she  claimed.  Bedell  was  giving  her  a  credit  to 
which  she  thought  she  was  not  entitled.  She 
cautioned  his  neighbors  against  believing  all  his 
statements  about  herself,  for,  said  she  a  little  mis- 
chievously, "he  was  not  always  himself  in  those 
trying  days,  and  some  of  his  impressions  may  have 
been  caused  by  his  delirium."  But  her  protesta- 
tions could  not  suppress  the  essential  facts.  She 
had  found  Bedell  in  the  very  grasp  of  death. 
She  had  saved  him.  But  for  her  his  body  would 
now  have  been  buried  in  the  distant  region  where 
he  had  left  his  amputated  limb.  Through  her, 
he  was  now  surrounded  by  his  family  and  friends 
with  a  prospect  before  him  of  a  long  and  useful 
life.  Such  an  undisputed  service  was  enough  to 
give  her  a  warm  place  in  their  hearts  and  an  es- 
teem which  they  knew  how  to  express  without 
annoyance  to  a  modest  woman.  They  showed 
their  consideration  in  many  ways.  They  knew 
the  day  had  been  a  weary  one  for  her,  and 
that  the  family  of  Bedell  were  entitled  to  his  un- 


"but    joy    COMETH   IN   THE    MORNING."         309 

disturbed  possession.  As  soon  as  they  had  shown 
to  Mrs.  Van  Metre  how  thoroughly  her  conduct 
was  appreciated,  how  welcome  she  was  in  the 
community  to  which  she  had  returned  a  valued 
citizen,  and  to  Bedell  how  well  he  stood  in  their 
esteem,  the  guests  withdrew.  But  there  was  no 
man  or  woman  of  them  who  did  not  bestow  upon 
her  a  parting  benediction  which  made  her  grate- 
ful that  without  fear  of  consequences  or  the  cen- 
sorship of  man  she  had  done  her  duty. 

There  are  none  of  the  promises  of  Scripture 
more  precious  than  those  of  rest  to  the  weary 
soul.  There  was  never  a  weary  heart  to  whom 
rest  was  more  grateful  than  that  of  the  woman 
whose  life  for  less  than  a  half-year  we  have  at- 
tempted to  describe.  For  almost  four  years  she 
had  endured  the  privations  and  miseries  of  war. 
Every  hour  of  her  life  had  been  broken  by  anxiety 
and  distress.  She  had  been  reduced  to  poverty, 
her  nerves  had  been  shattered  by  the  roar  of  bat- 
tle, her  heart  pierced  by  the  sufferings  of  the 
"wounded,  her  .eyes  dimmed  by  pictures  of  the  dy- 
ing; she  had  mourned  her  husband  as  among  the 
dead.  In  all  these  years  when  there  was  not  a 
gleam  of  light,  not  a  rift  in  the  dark  horizon  of 
her  life,  she  had  never  yielded.  She  had  always 
bravely  met  her  apparent  duty.  Now,  at  last, 
she  was  in  the  quiet  of  the  country,  surrounded 
by  friends  where  there  was  none  to  molest  or 
make  her  afraid.     Her  husband  was  with  her: 


310  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

he  might  recover  and  have  a  long  and  useful  life. 
Now  she  knew  the  meaning  of  the  promise,  "Ye 
shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls." 

Van  Metre  also  had  suffered.  He  had  loyally 
served  under  his  flag,  he  had  endured  all  that 
man  could  endure  and  live.  With  him  days  had 
grown  into  weeks  and  weeks  into  months  of 
suffering  more  acute  than  death  on  the  field. 
If  now  when  enfeebled  by  disease  he  decided 
not  to  return  to  the  service,  no  man  could  justly 
charge  him  with  any  failure  to  perform  his 
duty. 

As  the  winter  passed  and  the  Union  lines, 
stronger  in  number  of  their  defenders,  were  con- 
tracting around  Eichmond,  and  it  was  apparent 
that  the  end  of  the  war  was  approaching,  by  the 
inevitable  result  of  all  future  wars  between  na- 
tions of  Saxon  origin,  the  exhaustion  of  the  weak- 
er party.  Bedell  and  Van  Metre  felt  no  desire  to 
fight  their  battles  over  again ,  and  were  quite  con- 
tent to  be  spectators  of  the  closing  struggle. 

The  time  had  come  when  the  modest,  brave 
woman  of  the  valley  was  beginning  to  enjoy  the 
reward  of  her  heroic  performance  of  her  woman's 
duty.  There  was  a  marvellous  change  in  her  ap- 
pearance. The  weary  movement  of  her  body  dis- 
appeared ;  the  color  of  health  upon  her  face  was 
fixed ;  the  sad  expression  of  her  eyes  was  replaced 
by  the  light  of  joy  and  hope.  Her  step  became 
elastic,  her  figure  lithe  and  graceful.     She   be- 


"but   joy    COMETH    IN   THE    MORNING."         311 

came  an  universal  favorite,  especially  with  the 
young.  She  entered  into  their  plans  and  plays 
with  the  spirit  of  a  young  girl.  She  was  quick 
to  relieve  her  hostess  of  the  service  of  the  house- 
hold on  the  plea  that  she  was  a  learner  of  New 
England  ways.  She  travelled  miles  to  nurse  the 
sick  and  comfort  the  mourner,  because,  as  she 
maintained,  she  must  have  the  exercise.  Her 
sweet  nature  expanded  and  grew  more  attractive 
under  New  England  culture  until  it  reached  its 
matured  perfection. 

Time  waits  neither  for  a  Vermont  nor  a  Vir- 
ginia farmer.  There  was  no  complaint  about  his 
slowness  now.  The  members  of  this  household 
had  been  so  hajDpy  in  the  society  of  each  other 
that  before  they  were  conscious  how  time  was 
passing,  winter  was  reposing  in  the  lap  of 
spring.  Bedell,  grown  strong  and  stalwart,  was 
now  unfitted  by  his  loss  for  a  farmer's  life,  and 
must  accept  or  decline  an  advantageous  offer 
to  exchange  his  farm  for  an  established  business 
in  a  neighboring  town.  Van  Metre  felt  that  he 
had  tarried  at  Westfield  until  his  beard  was 
grown.  It  was  heavier  now  than  the  one  he  lost 
at  Point  Lookout.  His  face  had  lost  its  pallor, 
his  muscles  had  recovered  their  former  density. 
Sheridan  had  harrowed  the  valley  for  the  last 
time.  If  the  vaJley  farm  was  to  be  made  as  at- 
tractive and  productive  as  before  it  was  blasted 
by  the  hot  breath  of  war,  its  owner  must  go  back 


312  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

and  prepare  it  for  the  planting  and  sowing  of  the 
spring. 

And  so  with  one  more  separation,  the  rela- 
tions of  the  Bedells  and  the  Van  Metres  are 
brought  to  an  end.  This  young  Virginia  woman, 
unconsciously  and  without  an  effort,  has  set  be- 
fore the  world  an  example  which  ought  to  make 
her  name  a  household  word  in  the  Eepublic. 
The  soldier  whose  life  she  saved  has  repaid  a  part 
of  his  debt  by  the  restoration  of  her  husband.  He 
now  bids  her  farewell,  but  he  will  carry  to  his 
grave  the  memory  of  his  preserver,  the  true 
woman  and  the  unconscious  heroine. 


NOTE. 

This  volume  is  illustrated  by  portraits  of  Mrs.  Van  Metre 
and  Lieutenant  Bedell.  Their  portraits  would  have  been  more 
satisfactory  if  they  had  represented  their  respective  originals 
at  the  time  when  the  events  occurred  which  are  here  recorded. 
But  no  photographs  of  either  of  so  early  a  date  existed. 
Those  from  which  these  portraits  are  drawn  were  taken,  that 
of  Mrs.  Van  Meter  about  twelve  and  of  Mr.  Bedell  about 
fifteen  years  after  the  close  of  the  war.  Both  represent  char- 
acters capable  of  the  acts  attributed  to  them. 

No  effort  has  been  made  to  trace  the  descent  of  either  of  the 
principal  characters  in  this  book  to  any  distinguished  ances- 
try. But  they  are  all  of  good  blood.  A  very  casual  acquaint- 
ance with  the  history  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley .  settles  the 
question  as  to  the  Keysers  and  the  Van  Metres.  Very  early 
in  the  historj^  of  the  valley  there  was  an  emigration  to  it  of 
Hollanders  and  Germans  from  New  York  and  Pennsylvania. 


NOTE.  313 

The  limestone  lands  about  the  headwaters  of  the  Opequan  Creek 
were  attractive  to  them.  The  town  of  Woodstock  was  exclu- 
sively settled  by  them,  and  for  many  years  the  Dutch  and 
German  languages  were  the  only  ones  spoken  in  that  settle- 
ment. Dutch  customs  have  survived  there  to  the  present  time. 
These  settlers  were  among  the  sturdy  patriots  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. It  was  in  the  town  of  Woodstock  that  Maj. -Gen.  John 
Peter  Gabriel  Muhlenberg,  minister  of  the  Lutheran  Church, 
dressed  in  his  uniform,  with  his  sword  buckled  to  his  side, 
preached  a  farewell  sermon,  in  1776,  to  his  patriotic  congre- 
gation, and  the  next  day  marched  as  colonel  at  the  liead  of 
his  regiment  to  join  the  Continental  army.  Such  names  as 
Strasburg,  Mecklenberg,  Hamburg,  and  others  show  that  many 
of  the  early  settlers  of  the  section  were  of  German  origin. 

Among  these  early  settlers  were  the  Van  Metres  and  the 
Keysers.  Washington's  journal,  kept  while  he  was  surveying 
the  lauds  of  Lord  Fairfax,  in  the  valley,  under  date  of  March 
27th,  1748,  records  that  he  "Travell'd  over  to  y"  South  Branch 
attended  with  y  Esqr.  to  Henry  Van  Metre's,  in  order  to  go 
about  intended  work  of  lots."  The  Van  Metres  were  a  nu- 
merous family  and  among  the  earliest  settlers  in  the  valley, 
on  the  Soutlr  Branch  and  along  the  Upper  Potomac.  Kerche- 
val  in  his  history  says  they  were  people  of  energy  and  good 
judges  of  land.  John  Van  Metre  was  an  Indian  trader,  who 
accompanied  the  Delaware  Indians  in  a  war  party  against  the 
Catawbas,  but  the  Catawbas,  anticipating  the  attack,  surprised 
and  defeated  the  Delawares  in  a  battle  near  where  the  court- 
house of  Pendleton  now  stands.  John  Van  Metre  escaped  and 
returned  to  New  York,  but  he  was  so  impressed  with  the 
beauty  and  fertility  of  the  lands  on  the  South  Branch  bottom, 
in  Hardy  County,  that  he  advised  his  sons  to  secure  lands  and 
locate  there.  Of  these  sons,  Isaac  became  a  man  of  note  and 
frequently  represented  Hardy  County  in  the  House  of  Dele- 
gates of  Virginia.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Virginia  Con- 
vention of  1788,  which  ratified  the  Federal  Constitution.  In 
1730  it  is  a  matter  of  history  that  John  and  Isaac  Van  Metre, 
brothers,  obtained  from  Governor  Gooch,  of  Virginia,  a  war- 
rant for  40,000  acres  of  laud,  to  be  located  west  of  the  moun- 
tains.    This  warrant,  or  a  part  of  it,  they  sold  to  Joost  Hite. 


314  AN   UNKNOWN   HEROINE. 

A  number  of  tracts  on  the  original  warrant  were  surveyed  iu 
the  vicinity  of  Shepherdstown.  The  name  of  Van  Metre  is 
still  frequently  met  with  throughout  West  Virginia,  and  has 
its  monument  in  a  stream  forming  the  northwestern  bound- 
ary line  of  Jefferson  County  and  emptying  into  the  Potomac, 
and  named  on  the  maps  of  Virginia  Van  Metre's  Marsh.  A 
controversy  as  to  the  validity  of  the  Van  Metre  patent  was 
raised  in  1738  by  Lord  Fairfax  and  taken  into  the  courts  for 
adjudication.  Lord  Fairfax  contending  that  his  grants  cov- 
ered the  whole  of  the  western  end  of  the  northern  neck,  while 
the  holders  claimed  that  the  governor,  under  authority  of  the 
crown,  had  disposing  power.  This  conflict  as  to  title  was  a 
source  of  much  litigation  and  M-as  not  finally  settled  until 
after  the  Revolution,  when  all  the  parties  to  the  original  suits 
were  dead.     (Kercheval,  "  History  of  the  Valley. ") 

The  Van  Metres,  like  the  Lincolns,  were  of  the  sterling,  brave, 
and  enterprising  men  who  pushed  across  the  mountains  and 
won  Kentucky  and  other  States  of  the  Great  West  from  the 
Indians.  In  the  second  volume  of  that  delightful  book  by 
Theodore  Roosevelt,  "The  Winning  of  tlie  West,"  at  p.  101,  I 
find  the  statement  that  in  the  spring  of  1780  a  congregation 
of  the  Low  Dutch  Reformed  Church,  to  the  number  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  heads  of  families,  with  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren, their  beasts  of  burden,  and  their  household  goods,  came 
from  Virginia  to  settle  in  Kentucky.  In  the  appendix  to  the 
same  volume  is  given  a  manuscript  petition,  now  in  the  State 
Department,  dated  in  May,  1780,  stating  that  the  settlers  "are 
greatly  exposed  to  the  saviges  by  v/home  our  wives  and  chil- 
dring  are  daly  cruily  murdered, "  and  praying  the  Continental 
Congress  to  "take  proper  methods  to  form 'us  into  a  seperate 
state."  Among  the  640  signers  to  this  petition  was  Abraham 
Van  Metre. 

I  do  not  pursue  the  genealogy  of  the  characters  in  this  book, 
for  I  think  they  are  able  to  stand  upon  their  own  merits.  I 
have  written  this  note  because  the  facts  came  to  my  knowl- 
bdge  by  pure  accident,  and  it  is  always  pleasant  to  know  that 
the  present  generation  sustains  the  reputation  of  its  sturdy 
ancestry. 

THE   END. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
213 


